Waiting To Exhale
by Misty Grimes
Summary: Rick and Michonne wake up to a world where the ZA never happened, but they still remember each other and the love they shared. They both try to forget, but soon events happen that bring them closer to reuniting.
1. Confusion

**Chapter One: Confusion**

The sunlight peeked through the curtains, beaming down on Rick's face causing him to turn onto his side. Rick snuggled his head in the pillow wanting to go back to sleep, he scooted closer to the middle of the bed and put his arms around the figure next to him. Rick was pleasantly surprised that Michonne was still in bed, usually she was up before dawn, getting herself ready and fixing breakfast. It was an extremely domesticated routine that Michonne insisted on making a regular occurrence, "I use to pride myself on being able to make breakfast for Andre and Mike before going to my office," she said. Rick was glad she still in bed though, he snuggled up against her chest and match his breathing to her steady heartbeat. Minutes passed, but sleep never came again, Rick groaned knowing that he had no choice but to force himself up. He had a whole day of preparing a coordinated attack between his group, Paul's group of fighters and the new guy's group—Ezekiel and his "kingdom" had agreed to fight alongside them two nights ago—against Negan. The thought of Negan was the motivation Rick needed, yawning he closed his eyes and moved Michonne so that she was closer to him, if he had to get up, she did too. Rick kissed her neck and noticed Michonne smelled different, yet the scent itself was familiar.

"Michonne, wake up," he said mumbling in her ear.

"Who's Michonne?" Rick's eyes flew open, he sat up in the bed and looked at the woman that was obviously not Michonne. Rick's heart began to beat faster, his anxiety raised, immediately his surroundings became clear to him.

The bed he was in was much softer, the room bigger, on the opposite side facing him was once a closet wardrobe, now there was a wide dark brown dresser with a TV on top. Rick's hands were shaking as he tried to control his breathing, he's woken up before in strange places, but this was unlike before—the room was familiar to Rick, a room he forgotten a long time ago. The voice that spoken made him feel like he was losing his mind again, the voice that belonged to his dead wife; Lori.

"Who's Michonne?" She asked again, this time Lori sat up with Rick. Placing her hand on Rick's shoulder, Rick jerked from the touch, he couldn't look at her because she wasn't real, she couldn't be real. He quickly left the bed and faced what he believed to be an illusion.

"You're not real," he whispered under his breath, nervously he looked to his left and quirked his head to the side. On the nightstand were pictures he hadn't seen in two years; his father and grandfather with a 12-year-old version of him in the middle holding up what he had thought was the world's largest catfish. He remembered wanting to take it home so that his mother could make fried catfish that night, his grandfather refuted his efforts telling a young Rick, "a fish that big is old, son. No matter how well your ma cooks that thang, it'll be too salty and full of some real nasty stuff. You understand?" There were other pictures as well—Carl, Lori and their Golden Shepard Lucy; another one of grandpa Grimes and Grandma Eileen—two faces that he lost before the ZA. Except for the face that was leaving the bed and walking his direction, clad in blue pajama bottoms and a white tank top; her tall slim form came closer to him, part of her brown hair was falling out of her top knot and her brown eyes looked worried.

"Rick, look at me." Her arms reached out to him, Rick recoiled and stepped back, bumping into the loveseat. Losing his balance he fell on the table beside it causing it to fall as well. Rick forced himself to look at her, the woman he lost a year ago, the woman that haunted him for weeks after her death.

"STAY BACK!" Rick was shouting, he didn't mean to be loud, but frustration creeped up on him. He thought he was better, he thought he had healed, there was no need for her to be here, and he had Michonne. "You're dead, please stay back." He was pleading now as Lori kneeled down, she grabbed his arm, Rick held his breath, her touch was warm, her touch felt real. Lori scooted closer and then touch his face, cupped his chin and ran her hands through his hair.

"Baby, I'm right here. I am very real," she took his hand into hers and guided it to her face. She felt so real, her skin was soft under his fingers. He studied her features, waiting for them to decay, waiting for her to disappear and him be back in the room he shares with Michonne. But as the seconds passed, none of those things happen.

"I…" Rick swallowed, "I had a nightmare," he lied. He brought both hands to his head, there was tension in the middle of his forehead, and he rubbed it a bit trying to stop his headache.

"You want to tell me about it?"

Rick looked at Lori, where would he even start, the walkers—dead people coming back to life to feed on the living—her being devour by one of those things, or the fact Carl shot her to prevent her from turning.

"No, not really." He got up, sat the table upright. Lori got up with him, her arms were crossed and she still had a worrisome expression on her face.

"I'll give you a moment," she said. Rick nodded his hand in gratitude, Lori turned away from him and walked out the door.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rick ran over and locked it. Rubbing his face it became clearer to him that he might not be having another mental break. The bedroom he was standing in was the same bedroom he and Lori shared for eight years. The same fake sunflowers sat on top of the window sill with the same ugly brown curtains that hung on the window. In his mind it had been years since he's been in this room.

Rick stepped into the bathroom, turning on the light, he stood at the doorway shaking because of the image in the mirror. Last night his brown tresses were neck length, he was graying at the temples and he was letting his beard grow out despite Michonne's protests. Now as he stumble towards the mirror, his hair was neatly cut, beard gone, but more puzzling was the fullness of his face. Even his eyes lacked the hardness that he so often saw in the mornings. Rick pulled up his shirt and turned his back partially, the gunshot wound that put him in a coma was not there. He frantically scanned over his arms and torso, there were no signs of the abuse he and sometimes others inflicted on his body nor the aches and soreness that use to linger for days.

Rick sat on the edge of the tub and placed his head into his hands. _This couldn't have been just a dream?_ He remembered waking up in a hospital full of dead people and the emotions he felt when he found Carl and Lori. He vividly remembered going mad with grief when he saw Carl and… _wait._ Rick pinched his forehead trying to remember who was with Carl and where were they the day Lori died. In his mind he saw Carl holding a Beretta with the homemade suppressor he made himself, and next to Carl was a figure with no face, no shape to it, he couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. Rick recalled falling on the ground in shock, but he couldn't tell where they were; a hospital? _No. Woods? No, that-that wasn't it._

His memories were fast forwarding and then rewinding through his mind, too many blurred faces, empty rooms, and darkness. Rick pounded on his head, got up and knocked over toiletries that were on the counter sink, and paced in a circle until he sat down on the floor with his back against the door. Pulling his knees up to his chest, he rested his head on top of them and slowly breathe in and then out. He thought of decaying bodies and his machete cutting through them. Carl smiling on a train track, "we always share," he says, reaching out his hand which held one half of a candy bar. Brown hands grabbed the candy from his hand, "you're right. Fork it over," she says smiling. Rick used his finger to wipe tears that were clouding his eyes. He closed them and brought himself back to their room; seated he watched himself remove her top, kiss her dark nipples and pulled her onto him. Rick stood over them as they made love, he watched her cling to him, eyes closed and lips opened.

"I love you Rick," she whispered.

Rick opened his eyes. Still in the bathroom.

 _It was real; that happened,_ Rick decided.

. . .

After taking a shower, he saw on the bed his police uniform. He hadn't seen or worn it since..., Rick sighed at his inability to remember the when, where and how. Once the uniform was on, Rick walked down the stairs, stopping by the full length mirror that was at the bottom. Once again he got a real good look at the "old" Rick. _Long time, no see, Officer Friendly._

"Rick, you gotta eat something before you go to work," Lori yelled from the kitchen. Rick abruptly took a step back when he saw Carl sitting at the table chomping down on a bowl of cereal and reading what appeared to be a comic.

"Carl?" Rick stared at him wide-eyed, yesterday Carl was a teen going through a growth spurt, today he was Rick's little boy again, eleven, and free from the trauma he had suffered. Rick at one time mourned the loss of Carl's innocence, wishing Carl could have the happiness his younger self was displaying at this moment, nonchalantly kicking his legs under the table as he craned his neck to read a comic, spilling milk at the same time.

"Carl?" Rick repeated.

"Morning dad," Carl smiled at his father and went back to reading. Rick sat down on the opposite side of Carl, Lori was washing dishes. Carl looked back over at his father and pushed over the box of cereal. Rick noticed that Carl also didn't have any of the scars that he accumulated during the apocalypse, and the most noticeable difference was that Carl still had both his eyes.

"You have any strange dreams last night?" Rick could see Lori turn her head towards them from the corner of his eye.

"I don't really remember my dreams."

"Do you feel… different today?" Carl stopped kicking his legs and pondered his dad's question.

"Yeah." Rick perked up in his chair and leaned over the table. Maybe, Carl too remember the world going to Hell.

"Yesterday I was sad because Mrs. Johnson gave us extra homework." Carl's answer confounded Rick. "But, today, I'm happy. Mom said I could go over Patrick's house, afterschool."

"Aye," Lori piped into Rick's view, grabbing Carl's now empty bowl and spoon. "We need to get a move on, bud. Go upstairs and get your book bag." Carl left the table and ran up the stairs. "And so do you," she said to Rick. Rick looked up at her, there was anger in her eyes that he didn't understand as to why.

"Yeah," he said getting up from the table.

"What was that with Carl?"

"It was nothing." Lori placed the dishes in the sink and stood in front of Rick. She rubbed her hands through her hair and sighed.

"It wasn't _nothing._ Why were you asking Carl if he had a dream?"

Rick shook his head, trying to find a way to explain to Lori that he wasn't sure if the room they were standing in was even real.

"SPEAK RICK," Lori put her hand over her mouth, surprised at how loudly she spoke. "Sorry, but I can't take you not communicating with me."

"I had a horrible dream. I'm still freaking out from it, Lori."

"Wow, was that so hard," she said sarcastically. Lori started to walk out the room, but Rick grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"You died. In my dream you are dead. I mourned you, I grieved for you. The world went to shit and you were gone. So waking up and seeing you alive and well is a little jarring. Forgive me." Rick released her arm, he watched her shock expression turn into disbelief.

"Maybe, it's a sign that your focus should be on your family?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" Rick was about done with this conversation. There had been too many times to count that he silently negotiated with God that he would give up whatever He wanted to have Lori back. And now, God finally agreed to Rick's terms at a time when he had moved on. Rick didn't know whether to show gratitude or curse at the sky.

"I feel like you don't care about us. Me, Carl. You're just here, but not. Here." Rick got closer to Lori.

"Don't you ever question my love for you after everythang… everythang I've been through to keep you both safe."

"What?" Lori chuckled, "In your dream?" she shook her head, "Rick that never happened, if it wasn't your work keeping you away, now it's this."

"Dad?" Lori turned around and Rick looked behind her to see Carl standing there at the entranceway. "Shane's outside." Lori put her hand on her forehead, Rick could tell she felt guilt that Carl most likely overheard their conversation because Rick was feeling guilty as well. Rick stooped down to Carl's level and held his arms out.

"Come here," Carl wrapped his arms around Rick's torso as Rick lifted Carl into a big bear hug and giving him a kiss on the forehead. "I love you, ok," he said putting Carl back down. Carl nodded and grabbed his comic from the kitchen table. Rick turned to Lori and despite the tension, he gave her a kiss on the cheek as well. Lori gave a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, there was more she wanted to say, he knew, but that would have to wait.

Rick walked towards the front door and grabbed his Sheriff's hat and jacket, opening the door, he looked behind him one last time as Lori hurriedly got herself ready to drive Carl to school, and Carl, now sitting on the couch was engrossed in his comic.

Rick walked out the door to see Shane leaning on his car, talking to whoever on his phone. Shane looked up and waved at Rick; Rick felt a growing sense of hostility towards the man he calls his best friend. _How did you die, Shane and why can't I remember? CRASH!_ A sound of something flying into a window made Rick duck and look behind him. The windows to his house were still intact, Rick turned and saw himself and a bald Shane fighting on the ground. Shane was on top of Rick punching him over and over. _When did this happen?_ The other Rick shoved Shane off of him and struggled to get up. Rick watched as Shane grabbed a wench and threw it at Rick. Both Ricks ducked, the real Rick turned again to see where the wench flew to, but the only thing he saw was his front door. Rick turned around and fell backwards, Shane stood in front of him, bleeding from his nose, eyes vacant and bloodshot. Rick recognized that look all too well, Shane was now a walker.

Rick scrambled backwards and pulled out his Python and aimed it at Shane's head. _BANG._ The shot didn't come from Rick's gun, Rick looked behind him and saw Carl with his gun still smoking. Rick shook his head, hoping it would force his memories to be coherent. When he open his eyes, there was no walker Shane, instead a very much alive Shane was still talking on his cell and Rick was still standing on his front stoop.

"Look, I'll be there in five minutes. All you need to do is hand me my shit when I step through that door," Rick walked up to Shane, catching the last bits of Shane's conversation before he hung up the phone.

"Trouble?"

"Bad breakup," Shane responded.

"Have you ever had a good breakup?" Rick placed his jacket and hat in the backseat of the patrol car. He hadn't been outside for five minutes and the Georgia summer heat was already causing him to sweat.

"That one time in fifth grade. You remember Stacy Childs?"

"No. I don't remember much lately. You mind I drive today?" Rick gestured at the car keys in Shane's hand which Shane proceeded to give to him.

"Man, you remember Stacy. She was the biggest girl in our class." Rick got into the patrol car while Shane walk to the passenger side. "Anyway," he says getting into the car, "our breakup was great. I wrote her a note, it said 'Let's be friends.' I stuck it in her locker and she never talked to me again." Shane grinned and Rick chuckled as he put the car into reverse.

"That's a good breakup? Unbelievable."

"Sure was. Hey, drive over to Jenny's Doughnuts."

"Bit of a cliché, don't you think?"

"Ha! Nah I need to get my house keys from this girl."

"Okay, what's the story behind this one?"

"I never met a woman who knew how to turn off a light. They're born thinking the switch only goes one way—on." Rick looked over at Shane, he half-nodded, he had a sense in his mind that he heard say this before. "I mean every woman I ever let have a key—I swear to God, it's like I come home, house all lit up." Shane made wild gestures with his hands as he continued his spiel, "And my job, you see, apparently—because my chromosomes happen to be different—is I've then gotta walk through that house, turn off every single light this chick left on."

Rick tried to find amusement from Shane's speech, but he was distracted by the scenery as he drove down the streets of his hometown. When he woke from his coma, most of the streets were deserted, houses and cars were abandoned. The people that were now walking about, some waving at Rick as he drove by, most of them were gone or dead when he had woke from his coma.

"Then—the same chick, mind you—she'll bitch about global warming. You see, this is—this is when Reverend Shane wants to quote from the Guy Gospel and say, 'darling, maybe you and every other pair of boobs on this planet just figure out the light switch, you see, goes both ways, maybe we wouldn't have so much global warming.'"

Incredulous, Rick looked at Shane who was still grinning, "You say that?"

"Yeah, well, a polite version." Rick laughed at Shane's mischievous expression, "Still, man, that earns me this look of loathing you would not believe. You sound just like my damn father!" Shane lowers his voice and mimics a person possess. "Always yelling about the power bill, telling me to turn off the damn lights!"

Rick turned into the parking lot of Jenny's. "What did you say to that?"

"I wanted to say, 'bitch you mean to tell me you've been hearing this your entire life and you are still too damn stupid to learn how to turn off a switch." Rick's eyebrows raised, Shane started laughing, "Yeah, I went with the—I went with the polite version there too."

Rick nods and switches the gear to 'park.' He stared at a young black mother, cradling her toddler daughter. He heard them laughing as they walked to their car.

"You okay?"

"Yea," Rick sighed.

"Bad morning?"

"Yea, bad morning."

"So, how's it with Lori, man?" Rick turned to Shane who was looking at him expectantly. _Shane and Lori. "You gonna kill me in cold blood? Screw my wife? Have my children—MY CHILDREN—call you daddy? Is that what you want?"_ Those words echoed in Rick's head, his words, he looked down at his hands, trying to remember more. "I may have failed to amuse with my sermon. But I did try. The least you can do is—is speak," said Shane. Rick glowered at Shane, feeling anger simmering in the pit of his stomach. Why do I want to kick your teeth in? Shane on the other hand looked concerned.

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, "You should probably get those keys," Rick suggested. Shane nodded in agreement, just as he was about to step out, the police scanner broke the tension.

 **Dispatcher:** ALL AVAILABLE UNITS, HIGH-SPEED PURSUIT IN PROGRESS. LINDEN COUNTY UNITS REQUEST LOCAL ASSISTANCE. HIGHWAY 18 EASTBOUND. GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-14-3. ADVISE EXTREME CAUTION. SUSPECTS ARE TWO MALE CAUCASIONS. BE ADVISED THEY HAVE FIRED UPON POLICE OFFICERS. ONE LINDEN COUNTY OFFICER IS WOUNDED.

"That's us," said Shane, sitting back down in his seat, closing the door and putting on his hat and gloves.

"That's us." _It's like riding a bike_ , Rick thought, this was no longer the time to dwell on the fact that he was a cop again, doing cop stuff. Rick put the gear back in drive, did a U-turn in the parking lot and headed for the scene.

. . .

Rick and Shane pulled up alongside another patrol car, getting out, they hurried to their trunk and pulled out the spike strips. Quickly they laid out the spikes in the middle of the road and ran back to their positions. Rick kneeled behind the hood of his car and got out his Colt Python. _You're the only thing that hasn't changed on me._ Rick inspected his gun and checked the chamber to make sure it was full. Shane got into position behind him with his 12 gauge shotgun. To the side, were fellow officers Lambert Kendal and Leon Basset. Lambert was a fifteen year veteran on the force, a friendly yet stern man. His partner, rookie Leon was excitedly chatting alongside him, Leon was fresh out of the academy, and Rick would often wonder how he graduated. Not only was Leon inexperience, but he seemed to have moments of idiocy which is why veteran Lambert had the misfortune of being his partner. Shane lacked the patience and Rick needed a partner he could trust.

"Maybe we can get on one of those police shows," Leon said as they waited.

"You need to stay focus. Make sure your chamber is full of rounds and your safety is off," Rick responded, rolling his eyes. The headache from earlier in the day was back, sweat tricked down his face, stinging his eyes. Rick wiped the sweat from his eyes. _This happened before. I got shot here_ , Rick thought. Rick began to realize that he knew what was going to happen, with bated breath, Rick waited for the suspects to come speeding towards them.

No sooner had he thought that, a beat down blue Oldsmobile came barreling down the road with two other police cars behind it, sirens blaring and signaling to the four officers that it was showtime. Shane cocked his shotgun and Leon double checked his gun. Rick knew there were three men instead of the two that was reported, he knew that as soon as they crashed, one would start shooting. The Oldsmobile finally reach the spikes and as Rick remembered, flipped several times off the road and stopped on its back in the ditch. Breaking protocol, Rick ran towards the car, just as the first suspect, an older guy—blood streaming down his face from the crash-crawled out of the car.

"RICK!" Rick could hear Shane yelling after him, kicking the gun from the man's reach, Rick pointed his python at the man's head.

"TURN ON YOUR STOMACH, NOW!" Rick yelled. Ignoring Rick's instructions, the man tried to reach for the gun Rick kicked away. Rick kicked the man in his face with such force he could feel the man's jaw break on his boot. Shane ran towards Rick and the suspect as Rick put his knee on the man's back. Before Shane could reach Rick, the second suspect, a plumped fellow, popped out of the other side with a sawed-off shot gun in hand. A bit startled, Rick immediately calmed himself, stood up and as the man aimed his weapon at Shane, Rick shot him square in the temple.

"Handcuff him," Rick said to Shane pointing at the first suspect on the ground. Shane, momentarily watched in amazement and confusion at how quickly Rick reacted. Rick slowly walked over to the side of the vehicle, the man he shot laid dead, blood spilling from the bullet wound in his head. Rick knew there was one more person; the third suspect that had shot him. With his gun held out, he walked over to the dead body and kicked the shot gun away then bent over to inspect the front of the car and backseat. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw a long-haired man scrunch in the backseat of the car, aiming his gun at him. Right before the man shot at him, Rick hurled himself out of the way.

"Fuck," Rick muttered, the third man scrambled out of the backseat and began shooting at Rick and the other officers making Rick roll to the front of the car.

"GUN, GUN, GUN!" An officer yelled.

Rick could see from his peripheral vision, Shane shooting at the gunman. Rick could also hear gunshots from the road. Getting in a crouching position, Rick poked his head up and saw the gunman taking shots to the body until he dropped to the ground.

"OFFICER DOWN, OFFICER DOWN," Lambert yelled. Rick instinctually checked his torso, not a single bullet penetrated his vest.

"Come on man, Leon's down," said Shane. Rick began running behind Shane to where the young rookie was laying on the ground. Lambert was applying pressure to Leon's chest; Rick could see Leon's blood staining his white undershirt red.

"Leon, you idiot! He's not wearing his vest. That third guy came out of nowhere," Lambert said, he was frantically trying to contain the blood that was pouring through his fingers. Rick looked in shock, the headache came back, pounding, and causing so much pain that Rick fell to his knees. He tried to shake it off, but his vision started darkening until it felt like he was slipping away.

 **Meanwhile at Atlanta Municipal Court**

"Order in the court!" The judge banged on his desk with his gavel, demanding for those in attendance to sit back down in their seats. There were a small group of lawyers and bailiffs crowded around the fallen woman who was slowly coming back into consciousness.

 **To be continued.**

 **Author's Note:** I would like to give credit to Frank Darabont who wrote 'Days Gone By,' some of his dialogue (Shane's speech) was used for this story purposes.


	2. Reunion

**Chapter Two: Reunion**

"Give her some room please. Michonne wake up!"

"I'm on the with phone 911. Did she take anything? Any meds? Where did Christie go?"

"I DON'T KNOW! Michonne please—oh my god Gary, she's waking up."

Michonne eyes slowly opened to a woman staring at her. Her head was throbbing, there was a metallic taste in her mouth that she quickly recognized as blood. Michonne felt like she was going vomit any second, she blinked her eyes a couple of times trying to clear the blurriness that was clouding them. Despite the physical pain and uneasiness she felt, her body was tense and ready to fight as she reached to her side to find a weapon.

"Michonne don't move. I think you hit your he—," Michonne ignored the stranger's protest and slapped her hand away, she sat up, as her vision became clearer she noticed she was surrounded by people whose faces she didn't recognize. She stood up and stumbled, her pressing need to vomit was stronger and the pain in her head was throbbing harder. She took a step backwards and her ankle twisted, Michonne reached out to catch her balance on a table that was in front of her. Looking down she saw she was wearing heels, very high heels and instead of being clad in her leather pants, she was wearing a tight navy skirt that came up a little above knee.

"Whoa whoa ma'am you need to sit," Michonne looked over to a dark skin man that spoke, clad in a police uniform, he started to place his hand on her, but she jerked away. Moving away from him and the other surrounding people, Michonne took off her heels and ran towards the courtroom doors. Before she could reach them, another man wearing the same uniform stepped in front of her. Michonne took one of the heels she had in her hand and threw it at him, the man tried to dodge it giving Michonne an opening to shove past him and through the doors.

 _What?_ She was in an atrium of the courthouse, there were people all over, most carrying suitcases, talking on their cells, and ignoring the woman wearing no shoes and bleeding from the mouth. _What the hell_ , she thought. Michonne walked through the crowd until she got to the grand staircase. She quickly ran down the stairs, not caring if she was knocking people and their belongings over. Once she was down in the main lobby, she spotted police officers heading her way, Michonne quickly went in the opposite direction towards a sign marked EXIT.

"SOMEBODY STOP HER!" Michonne ran faster, following the EXIT signs that led to a door. _Please be open._ Michonne slammed open the door and in the middle of a sidewalk, dazed, she cover her eyes from the sunlight. Someone walked into her, making her spin around. "Damn bitch, can you watch it," said the man. Michonne turned around to see the perpetrator on his cell, angrily looking back at her as he kept walking, and continuing his conversation. Michonne took her other shoe, aimed it at the rude stranger's head and threw it with perfect accuracy.

The man nearly fell forward from the impact of the shoe and dropped his phone. "You fucking bitch!" He yelled.

The douchebag regained his balance, walking over to her, Michonne quickly looked him over. His attire, hair, and attitude screamed entitled prick, he was about her height and maybe had a good thirty pounds on her, but Michonne has taken down bigger. She stood her ground until the man tried to take a swing at her. Ducking his punch, Michonne swiftly moved behind him, elbowing him in the back of the neck and kicking him behind his knee. The man fell to one knee, but managed to grab the hem of Michonne's skirt, trying to pull her down with him.

"Hey, you fucker! Get your hands off of her," Michonne felt someone grab her arm, pulling her away from the man. Turning her head to see a young woman who was strikingly beautiful and angry at the moment. In the woman's other hand looked to be a small black canister. "Do you see this? I will drown you in pepper spray if you do not let her go." The man did as he was told, letting Michonne's skirt go.

Michonne let herself be led by the woman, a crowd had formed a circle surrounding them, she walked pass grown men holding their phones out, recording the fight instead of helping. Michonne and the woman backed away from the man who was still struggling to get up, his leg obviously hurt from being kicked.

"I'm calling the police!" The man yelled, "And I'm going to hire the best lawyer and sue you black bitches," the man's leg gave out, making him fall back down.

"You can't afford her," the young woman retorted, pointing at Michonne. She then turned around, took Michonne's hand and they sped walked away from the scene.

The woman didn't let go of Michonne's hand until they reached a parking lot, she handed the attendant a piece of paper, and he grabbed it and ran off. Michonne watched as the woman put the pepper spray back in her purse; the purse was expensive; Louis Vuitton, actually the woman's entire outfit looked expensive. The woman pushed back strands of her curly black hair from out of her face and turned towards Michonne. She looked worried, squinting her eyes, she looked closely at Michonne, then rummaged through her purse again, pulling out tissue. She looked back at Michonne and reached her hand to Michonne's face. Michonne instinctually moved back despite her gut feeling that this woman meant no harm.

"Michonne?" The woman pulled her hand back.

"Where do I know you from?" Michonne felt like her brain was working overtime, trying to catch her up to her surroundings. The last thing she remembered before waking up in a courtroom was fighting a Savior—one of the men from Negan's crew—and then an explosion toss her backwards. Everything she's been through couldn't have happened within less than a minute of her being knocked out. Impossible. Yet, here she was, her feet was starting to ache from standing on concrete and gravel were embedding into her skin. The smell of fresh coffee from the Starbucks next to the parking lot was clashing with the strong odor of onions and relish from a hot dog stand on the same street.

"It's me. Christie." Michonne couldn't recall who this Christie was, "your assistant," she continued. Christie sighed, putting her hand in her jacket pocket, she pulled out a cellphone, and looked through it. Then she held out her phone so that Michonne could see it. Michonne leaned forward a bit to see what Christie was showing—a picture of Michonne and her, they were smiling with drinks in hand. "We took that picture last week, your birthday, remember?"

"No, I don't. I'm sorry." Michonne had been recalling some details, for instance she knew she was in Atlanta, and the woman at the courthouse she first saw was Kerri, a paralegal and Gary was an attorney, but Christie drew a blank.

"We need to get you to a hospital. May I?" Christie held out the tissue again, Michonne nodded, this time letting the younger woman gently apply the tissue to her still bleeding mouth. "You must of bit your lip when you fell." She dabbed the cut, Michonne watched as Christie focused on helping her. She felt guilty for not remembering who Christie was, from first impression, she cared a lot about Michonne. "Here, your car is coming."

Michonne grabbed the tissue from Christie's hand and face towards the sound of a car coming down the parking lot. The attendant from earlier pulled up in a silver 4-door Lexus.

"I think its best, that I drive," Christie said. The attendant got out of the car and handed Christie keys, Michonne got into the passenger side. Getting inside the driver's side, Christie toss a briefcase and her purse in the backseat.

"Take me home," Michonne said quietly, her head was still pounding, but if the world going to shit was just a symptom of her blacking out than Michonne wanted to immediately head back home.

"You need to get checked out though, you hit your head and now you're suffering from memory loss. That's not good."

"I'll be fine, just drive me home," Michonne looked at Christie, placing her hand on top of hers and giving her a reassuring smile. She didn't need a doctor at this moment, no doctor could possibly come up with an answer as to why she felt so strongly that she had been in an entirely different time and place only hours ago. What was more important was getting back to some semblance of a safe place to collect her thoughts and that was home.

Christie sighed, "Okay."

"Thank you."

As they drove through downtown Atlanta, Michonne familiarize herself with the different buildings and landmarks. They drove past the courthouse where Michonne woke up at and the spot she got into that confrontation. Soon, Christie was turning onto Peachtree St. heading into Midtown, Michonne picked at her fingernails, trying to calm her nerves. From the corner of her eye, she could see Christie occasionally looking over at her, biting her lower lip and fidgeting as well. Michonne laid her head against the window and closed her eyes, images of decaying bodies with insatiable appetites came through her head, and she saw herself slicing through their heads with her katana. She walked through dead bodies and heard people screaming, her heart began to pump faster, and fear was on the verge of taking hold of her. A woman walked by carrying what looked to be an infant, "SOMEBODY HELP MY BABY," she screamed out, dropping to the ground. _Andre._ Michonne began to run, she didn't know where to, but she kept running, past the walkers tearing into human flesh, past the screaming, and then she stopped. In the middle of her path was Negan, a hulking man who had his hand wrapped around someone's throat. _Rick_.

"We're here," Christie stated. Michonne's head was pounding and the nausea from earlier was back. She got out of the car and was welcomed by the July heat that only made her more uncomfortable, she looked up at the High-Rise building she was standing in front of—it had to have been over 50 stories high. Walking to the front entrance, she overheard behind her Christie telling the bell waiter to hold on.

"Wait," she said calling out to Michonne. Christie stepped in front of Michonne. "What's your apartment number? If you can't tell me, you're turning right around and we're going straight to the hospital."

"1203," Michonne said, flatly. She surprised herself a bit with how quickly she recalled that number. Christie looked surprise as well, she looked to be contemplating what to say next, but decided against it, and instead handed Michonne some keys.

"These are yours. Can you make it up there on your own? I need to go get your files from the courthouse, but I'll be back in less than 20." Michonne only nodded and proceeded to walk through the doors, leaving Christie behind.

…

Michonne did manage to make it up to the 12th floor and to her apartment door. She took a deep breath, she inserted the key and turned the knob. Entering her home she was met with a sweet vanilla scent and air conditioning. Michonne closed the door behind her, and took tentative steps toward the living room. She glanced at the art pieces decorating the beige walls and Michonne could see the Midtown Atlanta skyline through the huge windows before she even got to the living area.

Michonne's living room was spacious and looked comfortable, to her left was her open kitchen and dining room. Michonne walked to the nearest couch and sat down, grateful to be alone with her thoughts, she glanced over the furniture and decorations, _nothing has changed_ , she thought. _Not that it was supposed to, since nothing happened_. She leaned back and sank into the comforts of her couch, _this just doesn't feel right_. Michonne stared at the view outside, everything was normal, no sign that Atlanta was previously a war zone. As a matter of fact, it felt eerily similar to the days before the outbreak. Michonne remembered reading an article or two about people getting sick in New York, a cannibal on the loose in Chicago, but none of it had alarmed her because that was over there, not here, she had thought.

 _An article_ , Michonne glanced at the coffee table, there was magazines and the _Atlanta Journal-Constitution_ sitting on top of the table. Michonne bent over and grabbed the copy, the date on the paper—Michonne remembered—was about three days before hell broke loose. Michonne examined the front page, nothing. She did the same until she got to the end of the A section, there was nothing. No mention of a sickness in New York City, _fuck, come on_. Michonne got up, she knew she had an office in one of the rooms, maybe the internet would have answers, stretching she began to walk through the hallway, but a shiny and very familiar weapon caught her eye.

The katana that integrated itself to her for two years was sheathed and sat above her fireplace, Michonne felt drawn to it, she use to think it had a mind of its own, a curse and a blessing, and no matter where she went it'll be there.

Michonne took her eyes off of her weapon and continued her walk towards the rooms, there were four in total, she remember her office was the first room to the left, but before she could open the door, another room captured her attention. It was slightly opened and she could see the crib from where she was standing. Michonne blinked away tears that were invading her eyes, she shakily opened the door to her son's room wider and stepped in. Half of the top wall was painted gray while the bottom half was white wooden paneling, there was the main wall painted in light and dark gray horizontal stripes. In the center right above the crib, in black calligraphy were the words _Andre Anthony_. Michonne remembered meticulously painting his name on that wall, she was eight months and had finally decided on a name for her unborn child. Andre would be his first, named after her grandfather who died months prior and he would share his father's middle name, Anthony. Also, on the wall was a portrait size photo of a very pregnant Michonne, semi-nude and cradling her belly, and on the other side of Andre's name was of her and Mike, his arms around her full belly, both with big smiles, excited for their boy to join them.

Michonne glanced over the children's bookcase and the matching easel beside it. Andre's small cars were scattered all over the floor and a stuffed giant bear, they affectionately named 'Bubba' was neatly tucked in the corner. Michonne brushed her hand over a cushioned wicker rocking chair, on it was Andre's security blanket, Michonne grasp the blanket and sat down in the chair. Holding the blanket to her nose, she smelled the fresh scent of baby powder. Her tears fell freely down her face as she remembered holding her son whose tiny fingers were clutching that blanket, not breathing.

Andre's room was gone in her mind and there she sat in the middle of a nearly desolate room, the only light illuminating that room came from the fires that were burning outside. Her baby looked to be sleeping, so often she would come into his room and watch him sleep, yet now it looked unnatural. She couldn't see his chest rise and fall, or feel his heart beat, and discoloration was starting to form on his perfect face. Michonne could hear screams, but they were not as clear as the weeping she heard in the corner of the room. Glancing up from her angel, she saw in the corner a figure, Mike, her boyfriend and Andre's father. "I'm so sorry," he said tearfully. "I'm so sorry."

 _THUMP!_

The sound woken Michonne from her nightmare, alert, Michonne carefully got up from the chair. She put her hand on the chair to stop it from creaking and place the blanket back on it. Michonne ease her way to the door and peeked into the hall, she thought the sound came from her room.

 _THUMP!_

The second sound confirmed her suspicions that someone was in there, Michonne tip toed back into the living room, there was an ottoman in front of the fireplace, and she pushed it as quietly as possible over the carpet until it was against the fireplace. Standing on top of it she reached for her katana, her fingers barely touched it, so she stood up on her toes, stretching her hand as far as she could until she was able to wiggle the katana from its display and hold it in her hand. Michonne was about to get down when she nearly lost her balance, grabbing onto the mantle with one hand and clutching the katana in the other, but her near save couldn't prevent a glass-shaped elephant from falling, it broke into pieces as it hit the floor.

Michonne regained her balance and knew whoever was in her room had to have heard the glass break, she quietly ran to the wall that was perpendicular to the hallway entrance. Breathing hard, Michonne unsheathed her katana, there were no dings or scrapes from years of cutting down both the dead and living. It was shiny, sharp, and new. Michonne swivel it in her hands, she only bought it for aesthetic purposes, never actually welding it until she had no choice but to learn how to protect herself and her family with it. _If nothing happened and all of this was a dream, why does it feel so natural to hold you_ , she thought. She heard the mystery person open the bedroom door, she steady her breathing and calmed herself. For half a second she thought she was being silly, but it did not deter her from coming around the corner, katana pointed at the stranger.

"WHAT THE HELL! MICHONNE!" The stranger was Mike, nearly falling down on his ass because of his efforts to avoid the sharp weapon. Eyes wide open, Michonne stood frozen, still holding the katana in front of her. "Baby will stop pointing that sword at me," he pleaded.

"It's a katana," she said quietly. Mike's dark smooth skin was wet and he was clad in only a towel. His arms reached out to her, the last time he had his arms held out like that she had cut them both off. Michonne let her arms fall to the side, shaking her head. "I'm sorry. I thought you were an intruder."

"You call the police if you think there's a burglar, not try to take them out yourself." He walked to her and pulled her into a hug. She breathe in his clean scent and felt his muscular build surround her with warmth. "You don't come at them like you're Bruce Lee, that's how people get hurt. Like me." He chuckled, but stopped when Michonne didn't respond to his lecture. He moved away and held on to her face with two hands. "You okay?"

"I'm ok," she moved her face from his grip, walking away from him she grabbed the scabbard from off the floor and sheathed her katana. She then placed the katana on the ottoman.

"You don't seem okay," Michonne's back was to him, she wiped the tears that were starting to come down her face and turn to him.

"Mike, I'm fine. I had to come home from work because I wasn't feeling well, didn't realize you were here," she said. Michonne walked back to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, she reach up and gave him a long, deep kiss.

 _BOOM!_

A door slammed shut, causing them both to jump and break the kiss. Christie appeared with a box full of folders and Michonne's briefcase and also a big brown paper bag that was on top of the briefcase. Mike went to help her, Christie shoved the items in Mike's hand and dramatically fell on the couch.

"Oh my God! I went back to the courthouse and everyone is looking for you. Oh and your shoes are in that box," she said pointing as Mike pulled out Michonne's heels. "Seriously, throwing Loubies?" She shook her head. Mike handed Michonne her shoes, Michonne put them on her feet, they were uncomfortable, but she wasn't wobbling this time around. "I bought you some take out and Judge Meyer called for recess until Wednesday afternoon, he wants to meet with you and Jacobs before trial resumes. Oh and Jacobs is being a little bitch, he claims you passing out was a stunt, pff."

"You passed out?"

Michonne looked over at Mike, he appeared worry. Michonne could only shrug, she didn't know how to explain what happened or how it happened. Right now, she really needed to see her son. "You have my keys?" she asked Christie. Christie went into her jacket pocket and pulled out the keys. Michonne walked over to her and grabbed them.

"You're not driving?" she asked.

"I have to pick up Andre."

"Andre doesn't need to be picked up for another three hours," Mike said, he went to stand in front of her, but Michonne side-stepped him.

"Look, I am okay for the thousandth time. I want to see my son, I'll be back," she turned back around and walked out the door.

…

Michonne had a more difficult time finding her car and then finding her way to June's Sunshine Nursery than she'll ever care to admit. As Michonne walked to the doors, she saw children running around at the playground, she stopped for a moment to find Andre, but to no avail. Opening the door, she was greeted with a smile by a young girl who looked to be in her late teens.

"Hi, Ms. Cassel."

"Hi," Michonne leaned against the receptionist desk, her feet was hurting from the heels. "I need to pick up Andre."

The girl nodded and took out a clipboard with paper, "just sign Andre Anthony out and go to the back." Michonne signed her name, next to Andre's and handed the girl back to the clipboard.

"In the back?"

"Yes, if you remember, he's in the second to last classroom on your right." Michonne nodded and smiled back.

She headed down the hallway, pass the other classrooms, a few were empty and some had children playing around, another had a teacher reading a story to half-asleep toddlers. The closer she walked to Andre's classroom, the further those sounds could be heard, soon the only thing she could hear was the click of her heels on the marble floor and her heartbeat. She reached the room and stood across from it, she couldn't move her feet any further. Instead, her hand went up to her mouth as she suppressed her cries, she was sobbing, hard as she saw her baby boy chasing after another child. He was laughing, he was happy, he was alive. Michonne coughed violently, choking from the saliva that caught in her throat. The coughing alerted her son's attention, he saw Michonne and yelled out, "Mommy!" Michonne got down to her knees and held out her hands, she always dreamed about hearing his voice again, being able to touch him and hold him to her chest. He ran out the classroom door and into her arms. Michonne hugged him tightly, more tears falling, she sat on her hind legs and lifted him up to her lap, he was wiggling in her arms, but she wouldn't let him go.

"Baby, I missed you so much." Michonne rain kisses all over his face, relishing in his warmth, he began protesting her kisses, but Michonne wouldn't let up.

"Dats gross mommy!"

"Are you talking about my kisses, Peanut?" Michonne laughed, she ran her fingers through her son's little fro and kissed his nose. "Come on, let's go." Michonne looked up to see Andre's teacher standing out the door, she looked concern and Michonne knew what was she was going to ask. "I'm good, just really needed to see my son after the day I've had," she said towards the teacher. The woman smiled brightly at Michonne and nodded.

"I completely understand. Here's Andre's book bag."

Michonne briefly let go of Andre so that she could stand up. Once upright, she took his hand and grabbed the bag from the woman.

"Thank you. Say 'bye bye' baby."

"Bye bye," repeated Andre. Michonne picked him up and he continued to say bye to all the classrooms and people that walked by, his little voice echoing down the hall.

By the time Michonne made it back to the apartment, Andre was asleep in her arms. Right before she could put the key in, Mike opened the door. He appeared upset and before he could say anything, Michonne put her finger to her lip, signaling him to be quiet.

"Meesh, I was about to go out there and look for you," he whispered.

Michonne walked past him and took a moment to take off her heels, her feet ache and her headache came back for the third time. Michonne can feel Mike walking behind her as she went to Andre's bedroom. Michonne gently placed the little guy in his crib, she sighed. For the first time today, she felt everything was okay. _What happened was a dream, a very, bad dream_ , she thought.

Michonne turned to see Mike leaning on the door. She took notice that he was wearing clothes now, and that he still seemed upset. Michonne looked behind her one more time, glancing upon Andre's sleeping form and turned the light out.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, Michonne took off her blazer, tossed it on the couch and walked to the kitchen. Her headache was increasing, she leaned on the counter and rubbed her forehead.

"You need some of this?" Mike placed a bottle of Advil on the counter beside her, Michonne mouthed thank you and opened it up. She took out four pills and popped them in her mouth, swallowing them dry. She turned and gleamed over kitchen until her eyes stopped at the wine rack.

"Can you find the corkscrew?" Michonne asked Mike, as she grabbed a bottle of _Pinot Noir_. Mike rummaged through one of the kitchen drawers while Michonne looked through the cabinets for the wine glasses. Finding what she needed, she set down a glass.

"Only one?" Mike asked, holding out the corkscrew. Michonne smiled shyly and grabbed another glass, Mike took the bottle and popped it open with the corkscrew and began pouring a little into each glass.

"More," Michonne said, she looked into Mike's eyes, smiled and gave him a reassuring rub on his arm, he poured a bit more into Michonne's glass. Michonne grabbed her glass of wine and started to sip from it and gagged, _this isn't right_. Michonne was a wine girl, she liken herself to be an amateur wine connoisseur, so why did it seem like she hadn't tasted it in ages.

"Let's do a toast," Mike said. "Today happened and now it's over. Tomorrow is a new day. So a toast to us for making it another day." Mike lifted up his glass and Michonne followed suit.

"To us," she whispered and swallow the rest of the wine in one big gulp. Michonne looked out the window, it was starting to look peaceful out there. "I need some fresh air, can you give me a minute?" she asked him.

Mike nodded, Michonne poured herself another glass and walked over to the balcony area, opening the sliding doors, the Atlanta temperature was starting to cool down as evening approached. Michonne sat in one of the chairs and looked over the scenery. _Everything, I've been through wasn't real. Losing Mike, Andre, it didn't even happen._ Michonne took another sip of her wine and felt herself tearing up. _Rick. Oh god, Rick_. Memories of that handsome, often broken man sprang to her mind. She remembered when they met, the tension, the distrust, she remembered Carl, Rick's son who became her friend and eventual stepson. Michonne shook her head as she watched the sun slowly descend, _it wasn't real_. The one man who had brought happiness to her life after so much pain, the man that she loved; he wasn't real.

Rick Grimes was not real.


	3. Lost

A huge thank you to all who followed, favorited and reviewed the first two chapters of Waiting to Exhale, it means a lot! I hope you all continue to enjoy this journey and please keep reviewing! -Misty

 **Chapter 3: Lost**

Rick sat at a hospital cafeteria table staring at the empty coffee cup he held in his hand. He checked himself out of the hospital over an hour ago after being admitted for overnight observation. Shane told him he fainted and Lori and the attending doctor were worried that there could've been another underlying issue with Rick besides "heatstroke." After several tests, the results came up negative.

Now, he was currently mulling over the phone conversation he had with Lori.

" _Rick, you need to check right back in! You were out of it for hours, you can't just leave." Rick heard in the background her rustling with plates and their dog Lucy running about._

" _They didn't find anything. I'm fine." Rick played with the prescription medication he was given for his headaches, he had already taken the maximum dosage for the day which only dulled the pain._

" _Those were just initial tests."_

" _I'm fine. Really."_

" _No, I don't think you are. You have been anything but fine since yesterday. Yelling at me about being dead…"_

" _Lori. Please." Rick's plea was barely audible, he only wanted to let her know that he wouldn't be at the hospital if she came to visit._

" _Well, are you heading back?"_

" _No."_

" _Rick," she sighed loudly in his ear, "please say you're not going back to work."_

" _I'm not going back to work."_

" _Rick!"_

" _Lori, I'm serious. I'm not going back to work," he was lying to her again. How many lies has he told her in a little over 24 hours?_

" _Then, where are you going?"_

" _I need some time to sort something out." If Rick's goal was to lessen Lori's worries, he officially succeeded at doing the opposite. She didn't say anything for what felt like minutes when it was really seconds._

" _Way to be vague, Rick. Be home at six. Can you do that, at least?"_

" _Yes," he said and then heard the click of Lori's phone hanging up._

Rick knew he could have gave her some answers as opposed to leaving her hanging, he knew he wasn't being fair. But, there was no way he would tell her that he couldn't function at this moment, not when he was observing every single person as a potential threat. He sat by the door, examining each new person's appearance and behavior as they ate. Taking note of what they were holding and whether or not it was dangerous to his person.

Rick didn't have his Colt with him—taken away during admittance—but he had a metal fork tucked inside the sleeve of his jacket. He was internally battling with two halfs of himself, one halve was more ruthless and paranoid. The other was trying to be logical about where he was, there were no walkers overrunning the café, no Governors and cannibals, no threat.

" _It's not safe."_

" _I know, but you and three other men are going as well. You need me."_

" _You're needed here, that guy fought you. I can't give him an opening to try and kill you again." Michonne looked unconvinced of his argument, she then gave him her biggest smile._

" _If he tried to kill me, he'd be dead. Stop exaggerating, I should be there with you. Our relationship is not going to work with you keeping me locked away," she said pointing towards their room upstairs. "I told you. You are not cursed. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not leaving you."_

 _Michonne draped her arms around Rick's neck and pulled him in close. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his, Rick could feel her heartbeat, the steady rhythm, calmed him. She was always a source of tranquility that he clung to, she was the reasonable one in the relationship, his closes confidant, and his best advisor._

" _Can I go?" She asked quietly, rubbing her hands through his hair and lightly massaging the back of his neck. Rick placed his hands around her waist as they swayed left and right to silent music._

" _If I said no, would you accept it?" Rick didn't want her to come with them, but he couldn't keep imposing his fears onto her._

" _Yes," her answer was soft and unexpected. Rick kissed her forehead in gratitude that she was putting her faith in his decisions, but he knew making her stay wasn't right._

" _Stay close to me while we're out there. If he leads us to a trap, no heroics."_

" _Says Mr. Heroics, himself," she teased._

" _Fine, you can stay here," he quipped. Michonne laughed and touch his lips with hers and gave him slow sensual kisses._

" _We're going to be one of those couples that can't go to the bathroom without the other," she said between kisses._

" _Yep. If you have to pee during the trip, let me know so I can stand guard." He burst into laughter when Michonne rolled her eyes. He pulled her in tighter, enjoying this moment, and not wanting to let her go._

"Rick?" A man's voice spoke behind Rick causing him to turn around. Standing to the side was a black man about Rick's height, dressed in a suit and tie.

"You just gonna sit here friend?" The man raised his arms outward, Rick used his finger tips to inch the fork closer to his palm. _He's not a threat Rick, stop it._

"My God, has it been that long? Did I gain that much weight?" The man continued, he was thicker in the middle than Rick, but appeared to be in shape. All the people Rick knew before most of the world died, he was able to remember except this man, this man he couldn't place a name to the face.

"Hey!" Rick said with fake enthusiasm, getting up, he slid the fork in his jacket pocket and shook the stranger's hand. He didn't know how to go about asking who he was without looking crazy, therefore pretending to already know the stranger felt like a better option. The man had a strong grip on Rick's hand as he smiled widely.

"Can I sit?" He asked gesturing to the empty chair opposite of Rick's. Rick nodded his head and they both sat down. "Is everything all right?" The man scooted in his chair, moving it closer to the table.

"Everythang is fine." Rick decided it would be best like with Lori earlier, to give vague answers to any questions that were asked.

"Ok, it's just that we're in a hospital.

"Oh yeah, I had an incident at work. Routine checkup kinda thang." The man nodded.

"I had to get my doctor to sign some release forms so I can start work today." Rick quirked his head curiously.

"Work? Where at?"

"With you!" The man clapped his hands and laughed, "Yeah, quit the FBI to become Detective Morgan Jones."

 _Morgan._ Deep down somewhere stuck in the muddiness of Rick's memory, Rick felt he knew that name.

"Detective? Congratulations to you."

"I wish I could say the same to you. I hope you don't mind, but I looked into what you've done over the course of your career and I think you have what it takes to do more than chase cats out of trees."

Rick did mind, but kept a friendly composure and smiled back at Morgan.

"You looked over my record?"

"Hey, I know it's not my place, but I guess this is my way of wanting my good friend to be my partner one day." Rick eyed Morgan, wondering if he should come clean and let Morgan know that he doesn't remember a thing about him.

"It's okay," he said instead, "but I do more than chase cats out of trees."

"Sorry, compared to Washington D.C., King's County is less complicated."

"From FBI to a small-town detective. Quite a change."

"Needed it," Morgan didn't further elaborate. _Ask him._ Rick started tapping his finger on the table, he had something on the tip of his tongue that he wanted to ask his "friend". _Just ask, he's a starting point_.

"Umm. I feel weird for asking you this, but did you work any missing cases while you were there." Morgan looked at Rick and leaned back in his chair.

"I worked a few. In my first years there."

"I may need your help finding someone? I was actually going to do this on my own, but…" _since we're such good friends, according to you_ , "I may need your expertise."

"A suspect?"

"No. A friend."

"A friend," Morgan repeated, "what's her name?"

"Her?" Rick was taken aback that Morgan assumed it was a woman. Morgan's expression didn't change instead he waited for Rick to tell him more.

"Her name is Michonne. M-I-C-H-O-N-N-E. Michonne. Shane and I met her briefly in Atlanta during a police conference. She was real beat up and had this mean looking boyfriend. I wanted to see if I can find her, help her if she needs it," Rick tried to keep his tone as normal as possible as he lied. Morgan stared at him for a moment, looking for any clues that what Rick just said was truthful.

"I don't believe that's the whole story, but what's her last name?" Rick's brain paused. _I don't know her last name,_ he thought. Rick's face began to flush, did she ever tell me her last name? No and he never thought to ask. He rubbed his forehead harder, feeling foolish for making his search harder.

"She never told me," he answer truthfully.

"Lucky for you, her first name is unique. Any other details you can give me?"

"She's black, in her early thirties, beautiful, a real beautiful smile." _If I can find her then what happened was real? Then what? The world magically goes back to being shit and what about your wife? Lori is alive and well and you love her too._ Rick shrugged off the invisible voice in his head that was trying to put a stop to his desperation.

"Ok." Morgan got up from the table and held his hand out again. "I'll call you if I find anything." Rick stood up as well, unsure as to why that went so well. He shook Morgan's hand again.

"I'll see you around and tell your wife I said 'hi'," Morgan said, walking out the café door leaving Rick feeling uncertain about whether he should have asked Morgan for help.

Rick walked out the doors of the hospital's front entrance to see Shane waiting inside their patrol car. Sauntering over to the car, he bent down and eyed Shane texting. Shane was oblivious to Rick's presence until Rick opened the passenger door.

Surprised, Shane dropped his cell into the cup holder. Rick grabbed it to hand it back to Shane, not before noticing his wife's name on the screen. _It's nothing._

"Give a heads up next time." Shane took his phone from Rick's hand and placed it in his pocket. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

"I wasn't lost."

Shane shrugged off Rick's retort, picking up the scanner's walkie and informing the dispatcher he and Rick were on-duty. The dispatcher then informed them of a disturbance being reported not too far from the hospital.

"You feeling up to this." Shane asked putting the walkie back and gearing up the car.

"I'm great, let's go."

…

The house sat on the outskirts of the neighborhood. It was unassuming and small compared to the bigger bodacious houses it shared the same street with; the lawn was well-kept and it had a little garden of vegetables.

Shane took the lead, knocking on the front door of the residence. Rick viewed his surroundings, the neighborhood was noisy this afternoon, several neighbors decided to cut their lawns at the same time, there were two dogs seemingly communicating with each other through barks and the water sprinkling system next door was whirling around rattling a door. Shane knocked on the door again. Rick took a step back and strolled to the side of the house, they weren't here to issue any arrests, but he wanted to make sure no one was lurking in the backyard.

There was a gate that led to it that he tried to open, but it wouldn't budge. Rick stepped away from the gate, he turned to walk back until he made eye contact with a little girl peeking at him through the front window. Rick smiled and pointed towards Shane, trying to signal to the girl that she needed to alert someone that they were here, but she quickly left her spot.

"No one's home man," Shane turned to Rick, "now why would Shirley tell us there was a disturba—"

"I saw a little girl in the window," Rick interrupted. "Knock again."

Shane knocked harder on the door, "This is the Sheriff's department, we got a call about a disturbance. Open the door."

They both heard movement from inside the house, a click at the door, and Rick watched as the door handle turned. It only opened slightly, just enough for them to see an older woman that appeared to be in her mid-forties standing at the door.

The woman's brown hair was closely cropped, she wore tiny gold hoops in her ears, and when she glanced up at them, her blue eyes showed uncertainty.

"Ma'am, my name is Office Walsh and this is my partner Officer Grimes. Can we come in?" Rick stepped further to the side so that the woman could take notice of him.

"Can I help you?" She asked, ignoring Shane's question.

"We got a call about a heated argument happening inside this residence? Is everything all right in there?"

She glanced over at Rick, their eyes meeting.

"What's your name?" Rick asked. She gave him a tighten smile.

"You have the wrong house." The woman went to shut the door, but Rick stepped in front of Shane and placed his hand on the door, stopping it from closing.

"Carol?" The woman's mouth opened agape, she didn't have to verbally confirm that that was her name. Rick could see from his peripheral vision that Shane was shock as well. Rick didn't know why he blurted that name out, and he didn't have time to piece together the puzzle of how he knew her because she was trying to close the door on them again.

"Please leave, no one was fighting." Shane and Rick looked at each other and silently agreed that she was lying.

"Ma'am. We're just trying to help," Shane said trying to reassure her. Carol stopped pushing against the door and gave a suspicious glare at the two men.

"CAROL! Who's at the door?"

"It's no one," she said softly towards the voice.

"Then why the hell do you have the door open for no one?" Shane clicked his tongue, Rick turned to him and pointed his head towards the door, gesturing to him that they should enter the home. Shane looked hesitant and shook his head in disagreement.

"It's the police, Ed," Carol clarified. Rick heard what sounded like a chair falling on the floor. His eyes met with Carol again and this time she looked scared, she moved to the side as the door swung open wider.

Standing beside her was a man who twenty years ago was probably a hotshot jock, told by those who feared him and admired his mediocre talents that the world was his to take. Only to realize he reached his peak in high school. This man had a permanent chip on his shoulder, sticking out his flabby chest and sucking in his beer gut as he gave Rick and Shane a once over. Rick immediately pegged the man to be weak based off his demeanor.

"Can a man have a conversation with his wife without nosy FUCKERS calling the police!?" Ed yelled at the neighbors that were watching from their windows and opting to take a break from their yard chores to view the live version of _COPS_.

Shane held out his hand, "Sir, we're just making sure—."

"You can't if you're hurting her," Rick said, sneering. _I'm sure I've already encounter you before in my other life and you were probably a piece of shit there too_ , Rick diverted his eyes over to Carol who was standing in the shadows of her living room, gazing at her flooring as if it was much more interesting than the scene her husband was creating.

"Excuse me?" Ed walked out to the porch while Rick took a step back. "Unless ya'll have a search warrant, you can get the steppin off my porch. Now!"

"Where's your daughter?" Rick directed his question to Carol, she didn't answer. "Carol, where's your daughter?" Ed moved to block Carol from Rick's view, forcing Rick to look at the man.

" _How'd you put his shoulder back before? You learn that from Herschel?"_

" _Internet. It's easier than telling an ER nurse I'd fallen down the stairs a third time."_

" _I'm sorry."_

" _Don't be. Just fixed what needed fixin'."_

Rick started fiddling with his python that was tucked in his gun belt, another memory conjured itself up to Rick's conscious. It was a moment between him and a gray-haired Carol, a stronger Carol. Ed's eyes left Rick's and watched Rick's hand.

Shane pulled Rick's arm creating space between the two men. "When did you become the hot-headed one?" He asked. Rick gritted his teeth and looked at the ground trying to calm himself.

"Mommy?" Rick glanced up, he couldn't see her, but knew it was the little girl from the window.

"Why ya still standing at the damn door? Take care of your kid!" Ed forcibly pushed Carol further into the house, Rick ignoring his partner and his more sensible side walked back up to Ed.

"Rick, ahh shit come on," Shane called behind him.

"Listen to ya partner boy, you don't want none from me," Ed taunted. He walked off his porch and met Rick on the sidewalk. "I don't give a damn if you a cop. I pay your salary so when I say get off my lawn, I MEAN GET OFF—"

Ed was cut short by Rick's fist connecting to his mouth causing the brute to stumble. Instead of backing off, Rick threw another punch, hitting Ed's nose this time.

"Oh God, stop!" Carol came running out of the house, Rick saw the black and blue bruises on her arms. Rick tried to hit him again, but Shane seized Rick, holding him from behind while moving him away from Ed.

"Dammit Rick, stop it now!" They reached the car, Shane turned around and pushed Rick against it. Rick tried to run back over to Ed, seething and wanting another go at him, but Shane shoved him back again making Rick scowl at his best friend. "Back off man," Shane warned.

Ed managed to stand up with Carol's help, instead of acknowledging her, he shook her off of him. His nose was bleeding down his white shirt.

Shane gave Rick another silent warning and hurried over to Ed who was now trying to charge at Rick.

"Stop!" Shane said halting Ed. Ed slapped Shane's hand away which only pissed Shane off, Shane took Ed's arm and placed it behind his back. "I'm taking you in."

"For what? Damn it, that asshole hit me!" Ed wrenched his arm away, Carol was back on the porch keeping her daughter from watching. Impatient, Shane forced Ed to the ground.

"You're under arrest for disturbing the peace," Rick moved to help Shane, but Shane put his hand up, shaking his head no.

"You son of a bitch, this is private property."

"Last time I checked, this sidewalk is King's County property. Don't make me add resisting arrest to your charge." Shane handcuffed Ed, stood him up and walked him to the patrol car.

Rick grabbed the first-aid kit that was in the trunk and tossed it to Shane then folded his arms and leaned back on the car. Shane put on gloves, open up alcohol pads and rubbed Ed's nose. Ed winced from the contact, whatever pain he was in, didn't deter Shane from shoving two cotton balls up Ed's nostril. Rick picked up a small plastic baggie from the kit and opened it, Shane tossed the soiled gloves and used pads in the baggie. Rick sealed it, put it in the kit and tossed the kit back in the trunk.

Shane had already situated Ed in the back seat who was still grumbling under his breath about justice. Carol and her daughter were walking out of their home, Carol had covered her bruises with a sweater and tried to walk past Rick.

"Carol, please!" Rick went over to her and her daughter who was hiding behind Carol's back.

"I need to go."

"Carol there are people that can help..."

"Do I know you?" She angrily asked, Rick paused, he wasn't completely sure what her relation was to him in that other life. He also wasn't sure if she too was going through the same crisis as him. "You don't me, so stop saying my name as if we're friends and leave us alone."

"Carol." Carol stepped around Rick and took her daughter by the hand and went to their car. Rick had a feeling they were driving to the Sheriff's department to have her abuser's bail money ready.

Rick watched as they drove off until Shane stepped into his view.

"You wanna tell me what's going on with you," Shane rubbed his head which he only tended to do when he was frustrated.

"I'm fine."

"Don't give me that shit. Yesterday you broke procedure and nearly got yourself killed and now we're beating up citizens in front of their family?"

"You saw her bruises."

"Yeah I saw them AFTER you hit that asshole in the face." Shane clicked his tongue again and eyed Rick. Rick's hand and head was hurting, he was ready to head home and sleep off the pain. "How about you take a day or two off. Spend some time with your wife."

"I don't need you to tell me what to do," Rick retorted, walking away from Shane.

"Well, this. What you're doing, how you're acting. It ain't working Rick. It ain't working for you and it ain't working for me." Rick ignored Shane and got back into the passenger seat.

"I'm suing you," Ed piped in.

Rick glanced up at the rearview mirror at Ed, breathing through his mouth and looking utterly pitiful.

"Shut up."

…

Rick arrived home, an hour later than what he had promised Lori. He sat in the car for a moment, his hand still hurt from punching Ed in the face, he held it with his other hand and leaned his forehead on the steering wheel. He closed his eyes and pondered how he would word his apology to Lori.

" _I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'll talk me out of it. You could have."_

" _We can find a way and if we don't. I'm still with you."_

 _I need you Michonne._ Rick sat upright in his car and proceeded to get out of it, each step he took towards the front door made him more anxious. _How do I go on pretending nothing has happened when I've change?_

Opening the front door Rick walked into a pleasant aroma of food coming from the kitchen. The living room was dark and Carl's presence was noticeably absent. The kitchen light was on and he could see that Lori had candles lit in the dining room. Rick stopped in the entryway of the kitchen, observing Lori as she hurriedly shook seasoning in a pot then she opened the oven and checked its contents.

Rick missed witnessing Lori's countless attempts at preparing home cook meals, but he didn't miss eating them.

"I'm sorry I was late." Rick spoke causing Lori to jump, startled she clutched her chest. Rick noticed that she was in a great mood, much better than yesterday and that morning. She gave him a huge smile and shook her head.

"It's fine. I had a feeling you would come home later than expected." Rick smiled and nodded. Awkward silence filled the room, there was an elephant in the room that neither of them were ready to address. Rick sat down at the table and Lori grabbed wine glasses and brought them and a bottle of cheap wine over.

"Dinner will be ready in a few," she said, pouring white wine in the glass and then moving it over to Rick.

"Busting out the good dishes tonight?" He grabbed the glass and took a sip of the sweet drink. Rick was hoping that in the midst of trying to piece together his mind he hadn't forgotten something important to Lori.

"For my apology dinner."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Everything." Lori leaned forward onto the table and grabbed Rick's injured hand. Her face scrunched up as she examined it. "What's the story here?"

"Bad guy wouldn't shut up. " Lori only nodded, turning his hand around and lightly touching his bruised knuckles.

"I visited Leon today. He hasn't woken from the surgery, his wife…" Lori sighed. "His wife is holding up. You know she's pregnant, about 8 months."

"Didn't they say he was stable? That it was just a matter of time before he awaken."

"Yeah, but a 'matter of time,' doesn't curb the fear of being alone, raising your child by yourself."

Rick didn't say anything. He contemplated what Lori was really trying to say to him because he knew all too well what that fear was like.

"Do you share that fear?" He asked her, moving his head so that he could see into her downturned eyes. She put his hand down and met his eyes with hers.

"I'm sorry, for yesterday morning. Accusing you of not caring about us. That was wrong." Rick didn't respond, he rubbed his eyes and took another sip of wine.

"God. It shouldn't take me thinking you were shot to say that, but I don't want us to fall apart. I want us in this together, for the long haul," she continued. Guilt was starting to eat at Rick as he drunk the rest of the wine.

His wife of ten years was trying to repair the leaks in their marriage while he was looking for reasons to throw it away. He wanted proof that this conversation they were having was real. That she wasn't dead, therefore looking for Michonne was the right thing to do. Yet, he couldn't entirely convince himself of that.

"We're in it for the long haul," he said. "I'm sorry, I don't speak," they both chuckled, "but I will try to communicate more often with you. And be here." Lori smiled, she looked happy, the same happiness he saw through the gates of the… _prison_. The prison is where she died. Rick swallowed, his throat was beginning to dry up, he grabbed the bottle and poured more wine.

"Save some for lat—Oh no!" Rick started to smell what was causing Lori to rush out of her seat, the odor of burning food. Smoke was coming out of the oven, Rick got up as Lori pulled down the oven door. They both coughed as the smoke from the burnt salmon caught in their noses and filled their lungs, Rick handed Lori oven mitts and she pulled the food out and tossed it in the sink. Rick closed the oven door and turned the dial off, he could hear Lori laughing.

He started to laugh as well, after all that he's been through, Lori's cooking would be what killed him. Rick turned to face her and was met with her lips on his. Her soft tongue tangled with his, Rick moved them away from the stove, tangling his hands through her hair. They walked wrapped around each other until they got to the couch. Lori turned Rick around and broke the connection, she pushed him playfully onto the couch.

Rick scooted so that he was sitting upright, he could feel his cock becoming hard from anticipation. Lori pulled off her top, Rick swallowed again, wishing he had drank the glass of wine. He appreciated the sight before him, he always loved Lori's body, her breasts were small and currently held in a pale blue bra and her long torso had a very slight curve to it. Lori used her legs to push Rick's knees apart and straddled him.

Rick moaned when he felt her weight on his crotch, she leaned over him and they began kissing again. Rick moved his hands up her back until her reached her bra strap, he expertly unhooked it and helped Lori pull it off. Their kissing became more passionate, Rick had his hand back in her hair and his eyes were closed tight. He was trying to stay in the moment, but his mind drifted.

"Ow,"

"Sorry," he said breaking the kiss.

"You have one more time to pull my hair." Rick blinked his eyes a couple of times, but he couldn't blink away Michonne, half-naked on top of him. She was rubbing her hair and putting her dreads in a top knot when she was done, she smiled at Rick and shook her finger at him. "Stop it."

Rick suddenly grabbed onto her hips and turned her so that she was now sitting on the couch. He grinded his erection into her and captured her mouth with his, getting pleasure from hearing her soft moans.

 _I've got dreams, dreams to remember_.

The sound of Rick's phone ringing to the tune of Otis Redding stopped his movements.

"No baby, ignore it." Rick opened his eyes to see he was kissing Lori again, not Michonne. Lori still had her eyes closed, moving her hips to encourage Rick to keep going, but Rick was no longer in the mood.

 _I've got dreams to remember_. His phone rang again, ignoring Lori's protests, he got up and dug into his pocket for his phone. The name on the caller id was Morgan, Rick quickly flipped it open and mouthed to Lori that he'll be back.

"Rick," he said.

"Give me a minute." Rick walked out the living room, there was a guest bathroom to the right in the hallway besides the dining room, and Rick went in and closed the door behind him. "I'm here."

"I spent better part of my day doing you this favor, you owe me."

"What did you find," Rick hands were becoming clammy and the headache came back, making its presence known in the back of his head.

"I found her Rick." Rick breathe in. "I found your Michonne."


	4. Is this the real life?

**Chapter Four: Is this the real life?**

Michonne was late. Very late. Entering the Atlanta courthouse, she viewed the multiple texts from Christie inquiring on her whereabouts. The urgency of those texts didn't inspire Michonne to move any faster that morning. Meetings, appointments and the importance of being on time in a corporate environment were all things that long lost their value to Michonne. She spent her morning just as she spent all of yesterday, basking in the joy of being a mother to Andre. She sang with him, watched _Caillou_ and _Tree Fu Tom_ and fed him homemade pancakes and grits as she got him ready for the day.

By the time she herself was ready and heading out of her apartment, Michonne was already ten minutes late to her meeting. Walking pass security, the guard she threw her shoe at was sitting behind the security desk. Despite Christie's reassurance that Michonne would not run into any trouble, she still took precaution by tightening her grip on her briefcase and keeping the guard in her line of sight while she went through the metal detector.

As she came up to Judge Meyer's chambers, standing beside the door and with her back to Michonne was her friend/assistant. She was quickly texting on her cell and tapping the heel of her stilettos on the floor. Michonne felt her own cell vibrate, viewing the front screen, it was Christie sending her another text.

"I'm right here." Christie slightly jumped at the sound of Michonne's voice.

"Jesus! Michonne, did you get the fifty bajillion texts I sent you."

"I'm sorry, been preoccupied."

"It's not like you to be late." Christie stated matter-of-factly. She sighed, "Michonne, you're scaring me, seriously I mean, you have memory lost and you're walking around like everything's fine."

"It is." Ending the matter, Michonne opened the door to the chambers while Christie threw up her hands in frustration and gather a bunch of folders and paperwork from a chair.

"I hope whatever you've forgotten doesn't include this trial," Christie said whispering.

Christie's words echoed through Michonne. During Andre's nap time yesterday, she wrote down anything and everything she could remember before her fainting spell. Michonne was able to recall every single case she ever defended except the one she woken up to and that frighten her, she had a reputation for being the best; sharp and ambitious. Michonne knew she needed to shake off the cobwebs that managed to engulf her whole mind in less than a minute of being knocked out. She couldn't let false visions of the undead, war, and Rick Grimes wreck her from her career path.

Michonne walked with confidence toward the two men seated in front of her. Judge Meyer was dressed in his judge's robe despite not having to oversee a trial today. He was one of those who like to keep up the appearance that he was never not working even though his fishing pole and bait box were right behind him. He glanced up and gave Michonne a warm smile which surprised her.

"You're late," he said, pulling off his reading glasses. Michonne humbly nodded her head and took a seat.

"My apologies Your Honor for keeping you waiting."

"And me," the snarly remark came from the lead prosecutor of the case, Clint Jacobs. Only a few years older than Michonne, he likened himself to be the Don Draper of lawyers, but was more of a Peter Campbell. Michonne has beaten him twice in the court of law and yet he was still full of self-importance.

"My apologies to you as well," she smiled brightly, not giving him the satisfaction to see her fluster and turned her attention back to the judge. "I wanted to reassure you Judge Meyers that I am much better and able-bodied to continue to represent my client."

"You caused one hell of a scene Monday," he replied. Michonne swallowed.

"Well, I did fall and hit my head on the floor. My actions were simply a symptom of the concussion I received." He nodded his acknowledgement of her explanation. Michonne quickly created different answers in her head she would say in case of any follow up questions.

"I've decided the trial will resume next Tuesday at 9. I suggest you set an extra alarm Ms. Cassel." Michonne's cheeks burned, she hadn't been scolded by a judge since her early years of practice.

Judge Meyer got up and took off his robe. Michonne, Christie and Jacobs stood up as well. She shook hands with the older gentleman and turned to walk out the door. Back in the hallway, Michonne turned to speak to Christie about how well that went, only to be confronted with Jacobs' smirky expression.

"What's really the deal with you?" He asked.

"There is no deal with me and if there were it'd be no concern of yours." She stepped back feeling uncomfortable with the lack of space between them.

"If your antics are of a ploy to sway the jury…"

"Stop." Michonne didn't need the aggravation of a spoiled little boy being condescending towards her. "I don't need stunts or tricks to win a case. I will win because the jury believed me. And because I'm better than you. So if you'll excuse me, I have a ton of holes to punch through your case."

"See you Tuesday," he yelled out to her as she walked away. It took everything within Michonne to not turn around and punch him in the face.

...

Back at her law firm, Michonne closed the door to her spacious office and took the moment to breathe. Her office had been her second home, she even had it decorated in a similar fashion

On her desk were two dozen roses sitting in a beautiful crystal vase decorated with crystals. Michonne walked to her desk and examine the gift, tucked in the roses was a small envelope, Michonne opened it and read its contents.

 _Beautiful roses for my beautiful lady. Love, Mike_

Michonne smiled, Mike always surprised her with gifts here and there and usually the timing was impeccable; when she's was feeling stress or upset he'd surprise her with something special. Michonne placed the note and envelope on her desk and bent down to smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers.

Knock. Knock. Michonne turned towards her office door.

"Come in."

The door opened and Christie walked in with the stack of folders she's been carrying around.

"Okay, I brought the most recent information about the case," she placed the folders next to the vase. "Mike?" She asked looking at the flowers. Michonne nodded, picked up one of the folders and sat down. She opened it and briefly read through a transcript.

"Is this from Monday?"

"Yes. I figure you might want to know what you were talking about before you fainted."

The transcript showed that Michonne was in the middle of cross examining Ms. Myung—a forensic pathologist—and was able to have her agree that the blood found on Mr. Dixon's clothing… Michonne stopped reading when her memory sparked.

"Christie?"

"Hmm?"

"My client. What's his name?" Christie eyes widen.

"Michonne, you're joking." Michonne knew not knowing the person she was defending in a murder trial went beyond worrisome. She was starting to regret insisting to everyone that she didn't need to see a doctor.

"His name?" She repeated.

"Merle Dixon."

 _Merle Dixon_? That name rang familiar with Michonne and gave her ill feelings towards the man who owned it as if he personally did something to her in another life. Michonne got up from her chair and paced around.

"This is not good, Michonne. You have to see a doctor."

"I'm fine."

"No you're—"

"Christie!" Michonne said sharply, stopping her pacing. She turned to the younger woman.

"We need to keep this between us," she said softly. _You're making a mistake, this isn't smart._ "Tonight, we'll go over everything and then I'll meet with Dixon tomorrow and prepare for next week. I can do this." She walked over to Christie and put her hands on the younger woman shoulders. "We can do this. Just help me, please."

Christie looked doubtful, she closed her eyes and groaned. "Do you listen to anybody? You need someone to tell you no a couple of times."

"You won't help me?"

"Of course I will! You started doing that thing where your eyes get all puppy dog-ish and it's kind of hard to resist that. Michonne gave her a hug. Pulling away she smiled, _I can get back on track with my job, my life, I can do this._

Michonne walked to her desk and sat down, she pulled out a notepad and gestured for Christie to sit.

"I have you know," she said, "I did have someone tell me no a lot and I actually listened."

"Umm who is this person and where can I find them, so they can be my sensei." Christie said laughing, Michonne didn't share in her laugh because it register in her mind that she was speaking of Rick. And there was no 'Rick' she had decided.

"Mike,"

"Uh huh," Christie scoffed. "You have Mike wrapped around your finger. You tell him to jump, he'll say how high." Michonne shook her head and wrote on the top of the paper 'Merle Dixon'.

"Now, I'm curious. Was it someone before Mike?" Michonne ignored Christie and opened up another file, she tried to read through it, but images of Rick smiling were distracting her.

"Ok," Christie continued talking, "well, you being suddenly quiet is only making me more suspicious. Are you cheating?" Michonne jerked her head up, Christie had her elbows on the desk, resting her head on her hands and giving Michonne a look of innocence.

"What?" Michonne asked sheepishly.

"Nothing," she said in a sing-song tone.

"I'm not cheating." Christie only shrugged at Michonne's assertion.

 _Knock. Knock_. Attorney and her colleague, Greg Bison popped his head in.

"There's a man outside wanting to speak with you, Michonne."

"Ok."

Michonne and Christie eyed each other, both women uncertain as to who the mystery man was.

"You can come in, Greg said.

"About time," a strong southern twang from the man could be heard outside the door. Greg opened the door further and sauntering into her office was a man that looked like a poster boy for _Backwoods Weekly._

"You the one defending my brother?" His voice was raucous and obnoxious which made Michonne moved back in her chair. He didn't bother introducing himself, he sat down in the chair next to Christie. Christie scrunched up her nose as if his appearance emitted a foul odor in the air.

"Does Merle Dixon's brother have a name?" Michonne asked.

"Answer my question first, are you representing my brother because it sure the hell don't look like," Michonne frowned.

"I'm sorry, what law school did you graduate from? How many cases have you won?" Christie sniped. He glanced over at Christie and rolled his eyes. Michonne gave Christie a disapproving look which made the young woman slump back in her chair with a sour expression. Michonne then turned her attention to the mystery man who was looking for a fight.

"You want answers because you're worry about your brother. I understand. This trial is not nearly over and…"

"My brother is going to fry because of you," he angrily cut Michonne off, slamming his oil-stained hand on her desk. Christie moved her chair away from him while Michonne remained unbothered. She stood up and walked towards the man, she moved the flowers Mike sent to her away from the edge of the table and sat down in its place. Crossing her legs and resting her hand and arms on her knee, she leaned in closer to the man.

"What is your name?" She asked calmly.

"Daryl."

"Thank you, Daryl. I want you to know that I have never taken a case I didn't think I could win. As a matter of fact, I've yet to lose a case and I don't plan on starting, but this isn't about me. This is about your brother, Merle. Trust me when I tell you this, I don't take anything I do lightly. Do not confuse my defense of your brother pro bono as the same as a public defender who is overworked and underpaid. I am fighting to have him acquitted." Michonne paused, his blue eyes stared into her brown. "If you do not like my methods or you feel your brother should have another defense attorney, by all means, Merle is well within his rights to hire someone else."

Michonne uncrossed her legs and stood up again, she was directly over Daryl, forcing him to look up at her. "And if he does, lethal injection will be in his future."

Neither Daryl or Christie spoke, Christie was in awe while Daryl's eyes were now downturned, he was chewing on his fingernail, deep in thought, and then stood up as well.

"Nice speech," he didn't seem flustered at all and Michonne somewhat admired that she couldn't intimidate him. "I just want my brother free, he's an asshole, but he's no murderer. You say you're fighting for him?"

Michonne nodded, "then I believe you. Lawyers are sheisty liars, but seem al'ight."

Michonne appreciated Daryl's approval, but she didn't care to have him in her office any longer. Christie must have read her thoughts because got up and opened the door and gestured for Daryl to leave. Daryl started to leave the room.

"Uppity bitch," he mumbled to Christie.

"Your momma!" She retorted, not waiting until he was out the door before shutting it forcibly.

The moment was remarkably funny to Michonne as she started laughing uncontrollably.

"Your momma?" She asked in between laughs. Christie sat back down and huffed. "Ok. I'm not going to get anything done here, I'm going home."

"You just got here."

"And I'm leaving," Michonne gather up the folders and paperwork and placed them in her briefcase. "Will you be able to come over around 8?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here, to be your guardian angel."

"You are no angel," Michonne joked, holding her door open as both ladies headed out for the day.

...

The July heat became unbearable to sit on the balcony much longer, Michonne went inside and grabbed a cold water bottle from the refrigerator. She was restless, the hour she's been at home was spent feeling anxious about Andre. Mike informed her that he would be the one to pick up their son from daycare and it took everything within Michonne not to argue. She was upset with herself that she was letting her nightmares affect her view of Mike. _He is an excellent father, Andre is fine,_ she thought.

Trying to take her thoughts away from her son, Michonne focused on her case in her office, but when her mind began to wander, she decided maybe watching TV would keep her distracted. But, even the mindless viewing of a reality tv show couldn't help, Michonne turned to ESPN, she half-listened to their colorful debate about some latest NFL scandal. One of the announcers segue into a segment about a former player signing on to be a defensive coach for the Atlanta Falcons, Michonne lifted up her remote to change the channel until a photo of the new coach was shown. A memory deep down triggered in her mind, she turned up the volume instead to hear.

"I think he'd make a great coach. The Atlanta Falcons need all the help they can get Joe."

"Tyreese Williams back in the day showed great promised and then stumbled badly until he eventually had to retire, I guess he's a great lesson for the players on what not to do."

"Ok, Steven you're just being funny. A majority of great coaches in this sport have either never been an actual player or a mediocre one. Williams is qualified…"

Michonne stopped listening, she was getting a headache, and turned off the television.

"Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed." She said out loud to no one. "UGH," Michonne groaned it was a phrase her grandmother use to tell her when she would throw tantrums as a kid. Michonne lain down on the coach. _I'm slowly losing my mind._ She angled her head so that she could view her katana which was back on display above her fireplace. She took note that she only wanted to use it once today. Soon sleep overcame her as she closed her eyes, the Atlanta traffic playing in her ear soon began to fade away.

" _I'm not taking my son out there," Mike, Michonne and Terry were in a dorm room assigned to them by the US Military. Andre was asleep on the bed while the adults were huddle in a circle for warmth._

" _It's not safe here anymore, Mike," said Michonne._

" _How do you know? You're out there more than you are in here," Terry said. Michonne opened her mouth to make a cutting retort, but instead continued to plead her case to Mike._

" _We're going on runs more and more because they're running out of supplies here, people are leaving. Most of them didn't have a choice. I rather take our chances out there, I'm good with my sword, and you've been getting better at shooting. We can find another camp?"_

" _No. We've got it good here. I'm not leaving."_

" _Yeah you've gotten real comfortable," Michonne cut her eyes towards the baggie in Terry's hand and then back at Mike. Mike ignored her and instead tapped Terry on the shoulder and gestured to the table. At that moment, Michonne decided her and Andre were leaving before the week was over, with or without Mike._

Michonne turned in her sleep, she buried her head between the sofa cushion in an effort to hide her face from the light. She saw herself standing in an almost pitch black room, there were fires burning outside, and the sound of screams. She watched as her other self laying a tiny body down on the floor.

" _I'm so sorry," Mike cried in the corner. His tears only fueled Michonne's rage, she ran up to him and swung at him._

" _HOW COULD YOU!"_

 _Her punches went through him like he was a ghost or was it her? Confused, Michonne turned to her other self that just stood there, katana in hand, and dead eyes staring through her and at Mike._

" _Michonne, they swarmed us outside and we were bitten," Terry came in with his arms outstretch, blood was pouring from his forearm. "We didn't know if you were coming back. Mike didn't…" Michonne watched as her other self raised her katana._

" _NO!" She screamed._

" _Michonne?"_

 _Someone was forcibly grabbing her by her shoulders and jerking her awake. She felt like she was choking as she coughed violently. She glanced to the side to see a figure lying supine on a bed. Half his face was covered with a bandage. The person holding her, bent her forward, she was practically over their lap as they hit her back, helping her clear her throat. Michonne stopped coughing, but tears were still falling down her cheeks._

" _I killed him," she cried out._

" _No you didn't. He's still here, you didn't cause this." Michonne sat up and looked at her friend. Rick Grimes had so much on his plate, but right now he was here for her, Michonne couldn't hold in her pain anymore._

" _I killed my son," she breathed in and out as she cried even harder._

" _I don't believe that." He held her face and wiped the tears from her eyes._

" _I should have left sooner. I was going to leave, just me and my baby, but I was stupid. I should have known better and now he's dead!" Rick pulled her in closer to him, she lain her head on his shoulder as she cried. She realized that she hadn't properly grieved for her child until another child she came to love as her own, life held in the balance._

" _Shh, it's not your fault. I know you, you're a lioness that will protect her cubs. Whatever happened it was out of your hands. You refused to let me blame myself for Carl and I'm not going to let you do the same damn thang." Rick hugged her tighter, "I'm with you. If you want to cry, we can do that. I'm not going anywhere because I love you."_

Michonne felt a light tug on her shirt, she awaken to two bright brown eyes on the cutest little face.

"Mommy?" Andre was climbing onto the sofa, Michonne wiped the tears from her face and pulled him to her chest.

"Ahh, my little man," she gave him kisses all over his face and began tickling him until he cried stop between laughs.

"Weren't you tired in the car just a few minutes ago?" Mike walked over to them, he bent down and gave Michonne a peck on the forehead and went to grab Andre, but Michonne kept her grip on the tiny tot.

"it's bed time, Michonne," Mike stated, he looked at her perplexed by her reaction. The dreams Michonne had were still fresh on her mind and she couldn't shake them off. _It happened Michonne._

"What time is it?" She asked, still not loosening her grip.

"It's almost eight." It was dark outside now, Michonne couldn't believe she slept so long.

"You've been out with my son for that long?" Michonne spoke louder, sitting up on the couch with Andre in her lap. She saw behind her Terry sitting at the kitchen island.

"We came back here hours ago. You were knocked out sleep, so I took Andre out to eat. And what is with this _my son,_ Michonne?" Mike was becoming visibly upset with her, but she didn't care.

"With him?" Michonne got up, pointing her head towards Terry. Andre began to fuss, so she placed him on her chest and rocked him.

"His godfather? Yeah?"

Michonne walked passed Mike. "Hi to you too, Mich," Terry said, he was equally confused as to Michonne's sudden hostility, Michonne glared at him in return.

She entered Andre's room and closed the door behind her and laid him down in his crib.

"Mommy, daddy," he said.

"Bedtime baby," she turned on the baby monitor and his musical nightlight that played classical music. Mike entered the room just as she was tucking Andre's blanket around him.

"Baby what is wrong?"

"Shh…"

"Don't tell me to 'shh' what did Terry do to you?"

"Is shut up better," she hissed. Andre's eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn't fully asleep yet, so she moved passed Mike into the hallway with Mike following.

"You know Christie told me more about what happened. You need to see someone because your sudden mood shift is weird and you've been acting way too overly protective of _our son_ since Monday."

"Someone has to protect him, you certainly can't," the words flew out of Michonne's mouth before she could stop them. She groaned. _I'm angry at him for no reason._

Mike looked dumbfounded and backed away from her.

"Mike," she said reaching out to him only for him to walk away from her.

"Yo Terry!" Terry looked up from his cell and stood up. "Let's go," Mike gestured his arm to signal for them to head out the door.

"Mike," Michonne called out to him again, but he ignored her, she timidly walked behind them as they left the apartment.

Just as she was about to close the door, she was stopped by Christie coming in through it.

"Hey, pouty face." In one arm Christie had a blanket draped over it, a pillow tucked under it, and a bottle of Grey Goose. In her other hand she was carrying a bag of groceries.

"I didn't know I planned a sleepover with you," Michonne quipped. Michonne looked out the door and saw Mike and Terry head into the elevator. _I fucked up_ , she thought.

"I'm not leaving until you know this case from inside out," she sat her bags on the counter and placed her pillow and blanket on the stool.

Michonne closed the front door and locked it, she walked over to all the boxes that were sitting on her floor.

"Grab the one dated 5-10-2009, that has all the original police reports, statements that were given, and crime scene photos," Christie said from the kitchen. Michonne looked over to see she was grabbing the martini shaker.

"None for me," Michonne called out. "I've been working on this for over a year?" Michonne grabbed the box and went over to her living space and sat down on the rugged carpet. She opened the box and pulled out files of paper.

"I think I'm going to drink this whole bottle before the night is over." Michonne ignored Christie's sarcastic remark and organized the files on the floor. "You didn't take the case until this year," Christie walked over with her drink in one hand and a bag of Hot Cheetos.

"Why did I take the case?"

"Michonne, for the twentieth time, I think this is a bad idea and you should be having your brain scanned as we speak."

"You said you'd help."

Christie took a long swig from her drink and set it down on a coaster that Michonne pushed over to her. She then leaned over and grabbed one of the files.

"You took the case because after you met with Merle Dixon you thought he was innocent of the crime."

"Innocent?"

"Yep. I still don't know why you're taking such a risk considering the evidence is kind of damning."

Michonne shook her head, she's been trying to conjure up memories about handling this case all day, she didn't even know what her defendant looked like, nothing was popping up in her head.

"Let's just start from the beginning."

"Cool, I have the police report from the scene right here."

"Read it to me."

"Office Bryant was the first to arrive to the scene. The motel's owner was standing outside, he appeared to be sick. Yadda yadda ya, owner stated he called the police. Said he heard arguing and yelling. Said it was not an unusual thing to hear at night. Blah Blah Blah.

"Christie."

"Mich, this stuff is boring." Michonne gave Christie a look of annoyance, catching the hint Christie mouthed sorry and began reading again, "Immediately noticed two dead bodies inside the room, one was easily identifiable as a woman and the other appeared to be a man from the outfit. There was blood soaked into the carpeting near the man and blood, brain matter, and pieces of skull were all over the wall, bed, nightstand and the dead woman as well."

While Christie read, Michonne opened up the folder that was marked 'photos', she pulled out the stack of letter-sized pictures, the first one was of a nightstand that fit the description from the report. Michonne flipped to the next photo, it was of the woman. Michonne studied the photograph, the woman's eyes were open staring into nothingness. She was half-naked with only a towel covering her lower region. There was a small hole in her head and a matching hole in her chest. Michonne grimaced, the woman face was swollen and her body looked gaunt as if she lacked nutrition.

 _I'm a fair man, matter of fact I'm more than fair. You killed my men and only left one alive and I'm just going to kill one of yours. Only one!_

Michonne closed her eyes as the disembodied voice spoke over Christie's monotonous reading of the statement. She turned to the other photo and gasped.

"The second victim's head was smashed beyond recognition," she stated.

Michonne's stomach turned and her hands shook the photo she was holding, the body was headless, only strands of muscle ligaments were still attached. There was nothing left of anything that even resembled a human head, the photo could only be comparable to smashed pumpkins.

Michonne felt her mind leave the room, leave Atlanta, she could hear Christie's voice grow faint. The air was chillier, her carpet was gone and in its place was gravel road. She was no longer sitting on her behind, but being forced to kneel. Michonne looked down to her right and kneeling next to her was the kid she adored, Carl, and if he was frighten he didn't show it.

"Ok, so this other report is from the forensics lady," Michonne could hear Christie, it seemed as if her voice was coming from the sky making Michonne look up at the night sky sprinkled with the stars. She glanced down as she felt someone grab her hand, she thought it was Carl, but his hands were clenched in a fist. Michonne looked over Carl's head to Rick. He was scared, his eyes were glaze from tears that were threatening to drop. Michonne licked her lips and tasted the saltiness of her own tears.

"The report says they were able to identify the headless victim from teeth records and his name is Dwight Gibson."

 _So who's it going to be Rick? Don't worry you ain't gotta make that decision. Lucille is a very picky eater. Is that your boy? That's your boy, I won't harm your boy, no, I want us to be friends. How about this Asian guy? Nah, that'll be racist. No to the black chick too, that'll be racist and sexist._

"We believe Dwight was the first victim and the woman—who we identified as Sherry Gibson—was the second victim. We also believe the killer made her watch as he beat Mr. Gibson's head with a blunt object."

 _Inni-mini-miny-mo. Catch a tiger by its toe. If it hollers let it go. Inni. Mini. Miny. Mo!_

Michonne closed her eyes, _this is not real_. When she opened them, she was back in her apartment, Christie was still reading and she was still staring at the gruesome photo. Tossing the pictures to the ground, Michonne quickly stood up.

"I have to use the bathroom," Christie only nodded. Michonne ran to the guest bathroom, closed the door and promptly threw up today's contents that were sitting on her stomach. She was shaky, hot and uncomfortable. Sicken with what she was seeing in her head and in the toilet bowl, her stomach tighten and forced her to violently vomit again.

She continued to throw up even when there were no longer anything left besides stomach bile. Not being able to take it much longer, she crawled away from the toilet and hauled herself up to the counter sink.

"Michonne, open the door." Christie was outside, but Michonne didn't care to let her in. She turned on the faucet and tossed cold water over her mouth.

Michonne felt heavy movement to her left as someone was grabbed, she couldn't see who the person was, her vision was blurred, but she heard the screaming pleas.

Michonne looked into the mirror, she was tired and she felt defeated. _What is wrong with me,_ she thought. She tried so hard to convince herself that she dreamed a long nightmare in a short period of time. She began to cry from frustration. These images were from her memory, _it happened_.

 _Crack._ Michonne watched through blurry eyes as the devil in human form swung a bat and it made its connection on the skull of the faceless man. Michonne screamed, angry, she swung her fist into the mirror and punched it again, ignoring the blood, pain and broken mirror pieces falling into the sink.

"RICK! I NEED YOU," she yelled out tearfully. "I need you." Michonne crumpled to the floor, holding her bloody hand as she tried to forget.


	5. Anger Makes You Stupid

_**Yowza! Firstly, thank you all that have read and reviewed and followed my story. I love reading your comments, they truly make my day. Secondly, apologies for how long this update took. I hope the wait wasn't too long, enjoy!**_

 **Chapter Five: Anger Make You Stupid**

 _The fight's over. You've gotta let it go._

"Rick, you there?" Morgan's voice from the phone echoed in the bathroom. "I'm sorry man, I'm real sorry."

 _I know it's hard. After it kept you warm and fed and alive._

"If you're still there, I'll bring you the obituary when I see next time."

 _But the fight, it turns on you. Gotta let it go._

…

Rick stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. It'd only been a couple days and he was already sporting stubble, he took his eyes off his reflection and eyed the razor on the counter. Picking up the shaving cream, he squeeze a glob of green gel into his hand and spread it all over his lower face. Then he picked up his razor and began shaving.

 _I'm still with you._

His hands were moving, but there were no thought behind his movements, as he dragged the razor across his skin. Rick hands remained steady even when his skin broke and blood dripped down his chin into the sink.

Tears stung as they came in contact with the open wound. He didn't think he had any left, but his hands shook as he cried harder. He took a deep breath and then let it out and focused on his reflection. His arm was starting to ache, his other hand reached up to his neck, touching the jugular vein that was popping out.

"Dad?"

Carl was on the other side of the door, softly knocking. Rick put down the razor and rinse his face in the lukewarm water. Drying off, the cut was still bleeding, he opened the medicine cabinet and rummaged for bandages. Finding what he needed, Rick placed a Mickey Mouse styled bandage on his wound.

"Dad?"

Rick opened the door, Carl stood there with comic in hand and Lucy by his side. When he gazed up at his dad, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Carl," Rick bent down and scratched behind Lucy's ears who wagged her tail in appreciation and moved passed him, finding herself a comfy spot to rest on the bathroom rug.

"Mom wanted to know if you were ready to go."

Rick sighed, "yeah, gotta get dress." He had hoped that if he took his time getting ready that would leave without him.

"Don't forget the fishing poles, dad. Patrick wants to try fishing."

"Patrick? Who's Patrick?"

"My friend," Carl said frowning. "He came over last week, you were here."

"His parents letting him play hooky?" Rick raised an eyebrow.

"His dad is laid-back," Carl stated with uncertainty and avoided eye-contact with Rick.

"He's not coming." Rick walked to his drawer to pick out his clothing for the day.

"Dad! I promise you, his dad will be cool with this, please." Rick pulled out a black shirt and blue jeans.

"No. This is supposed to be a family outing."

"Shane's coming."

Rick's shirt was halfway on when he paused, shaking his head, he then finished his task of clothing himself.

"Shane's family," Rick said, sitting on the bed and putting on his boots.

"I know," Carl sat down next to him, leaning back and kicking his legs on the frame. "He's your best friend and Patrick's mine."

"How long have you've known Patrick?"

"Two months." Rick laughed and gestured for Carl to get up, he reached over and grabbed his watch.

"No," he said firmly. He whistled low to Lucy, she perked up and left her comfy spot to walk towards them.

"Mom said it was ok." Carl continued, his tone light and cautious as if he was poking around inside his dad's head, trying to find the 'yes' switch.

"She isn't Patrick's mom."

"His mom's dead." Rick swallowed, Carl folded and unfolded the comic, shuffling back and forth on the heels of his shoes. "That's why they moved down here. He said his baby sister killed their mom."

"What?"

"It wasn't on purpose, it was when she had her," Carl clarified, this time looking his dad in the eye. Rick blinked back tears and quickly wiped his face.

"He can come," he said quietly. Carl grinned and threw his arms around Rick's legs.

"Thanks dad."

"Mmhmm" Rick coughed and headed back to the bathroom. "Give me a minute, I'll be downstairs," he said shutting the door.

He sat on the toilet seat and placed his head in the palm of his hands, he knew he was not going to make it through the day without dulling the pain. Rick reached for the prescription he was given, it was supposed to be a two week supply and there were only six left. He popped four in his mouth, turned the faucet on and drank from it, swallowing the pills. He took another look in the mirror and sneered.

"Carl doesn't deserve this. And she would knock me the hell out if she knew…" he gripped the sink unable to finish his sentence. "She probably didn't even know me."

His surroundings were starting to suffocate him, he opened the door again to see Lucy still in the bedroom. She walked to Rick and whimpered, Rick's sadness seemed to be affecting his dog. He bent down again and gave her a hug this time, she licked his neck and the side of his face, her efforts to make him better were successful.

"I know Lucy, I know. Rick Grimes needs to get his shit together."

…

Lake Conasauga was peaceful that afternoon and the weather decided to be kind to the group by staying at a comfortable mid-70s. Rick, Carl, and Patrick were sitting on the lake's deck, practicing their casting.

"You need to hold the rod at your waist," Rick moved Patrick's hand that was holding the fishing rod. "Now place your thumb here," Rick pointed to a button at the base of the reel.

Patrick clumsily did as he was told, maneuvering his arm to match Rick's instructions.

"Is this right?"

Rick nodded, Patrick's thick rim glasses were falling down the bridge of his nose due to sweat. He pushed them back up and moved his arm back. Rick moved so not to get hit with the bobber. Patrick then swung his arm forward, the line and bobber landed much further in the lake then his previous attempts.

"Good. Good. Now you want to let some of the line out. Not too fast, just pull it gently. Now that button you have your thumb on, you want to push and hold it." Patrick looked for Rick's approval, Rick gave it to him with another nod of his head.

Feeling confident that Patrick was getting a hang of casting, Rick walked over to where Carl sat. With his feet in the water, he seemed to be somewhere else.

"Caught anything?"

"Nope."

"Did you hook the bait in right?" Rick rolled up his pants legs and joined Carl.

"I know how to hook the bait," he said defensively.

"Just checking," Rick sat with his hands folded, not knowing what to say to his son that didn't involve a speech on the importance of staying safe.

"Dad, can I ask you a question?" Carl voice was low and he slightly turned his body away from Patrick.

Rick eyed his son's sudden serious expression and began kneading the palm of his hand.

"Go for it."

"Did I do something wrong?" Carl was bent over, staring at branches and leaves that had drifted into the water. Rick lowered his gaze and grimaced, despite the confusion and the grief he felt in his chest, he was still a father.

"No, you've done nothing wrong Carl," Rick placed his arm around him, pulling him closer and ruffling his hair. "I've been out of it for a couple of days, but it has nothing do to with you."

"Ok," Carl sounded unconvinced which pained Rick.

"Hey look at me," Carl gazed upward. Rick licked his lips and darted his eyes to Patrick and back to Carl. "I'm sorry. I love you and because I love you, I'll get better. I promise."

Carl nodded his head and gave a sheepishly smile. Rick felt semi relieved that Carl seemed to have accepted his apology.

"Mr. Grimes is there something else we could do?" Patrick piped in, Rick looked over at him still casting.

"It is boring," Carl added. Rick removed his arm from around and playfully grunted.

"You're the one who suggested fishing."

"Only because Patrick has never done it, I've been sitting here for hours and haven't caught anything." Carl moaned, reeling in his fishless hook.

Rick laughed, "Hours? We've only been out here for much less than that.

Patrick had already reeled in his line and bobber, he didn't know what to do with the line that he let out, and so he proceeded to wrap it around the fishing rod.

"My dad got the final copies of the new issue today, Carl."

Carl turned his head fast towards Patrick. Rick raised his eyebrows at Carl's sudden excitement.

"No way!" He exclaimed, "You have it?"

"It's in my bag."

"Your dad let you have it?" Carl got up and wiped his feet on a towel next to them.

"I borrowed it," Patrick said shrugging. Patrick's subtle way of saying he stole the comic didn't fly past Rick's head.

"And Mr…?" Rick asked.

"Berkman," Patrick replied.

"And Mr. Berkman's okay with you borrowing his work?" Rick asked sternly. Patrick crossed his arms and smiled.

"My dad's cool with it," his smile falter. Rick could see Carl biting his cheek and darting his eyes from Rick to Patrick. Rick decided it would be best to not press the issue. He got up from his spot as well and used the same towel to dry his feet.

"What's the name of this comic anyway?"

"The Walking Dead," Carl said, he pulled out the comic he's been carrying around since that morning and held it out for Rick to see.

The title rang alarm bells in Rick's mind. _The walking dead_ was a phrase his grandfather used to describe how he made it through World War Two. Rick grabbed the comic from Carl and flipped through the pages. Images of decaying beings and groups of people shooting them down were all over those pages. Rick's breath hitched in the back of his throat and he stumbled as he took a step back, nearly dropping the comic in the water.

"It's about these monsters that have taken over the world. They were once human, but when they died they came back," Carl continued.

"Walkers?" Rick had a heavy feeling in his stomach. _How is this possible?_

"Yeah! You're reading it," Carl eyes gleamed, happy that his dad has finally taken an interest in something he liked. "My favorite character is Catania."

"Yeah, she's pretty cool," said Patrick. He shuffled on his feet, showing less enthusiasm than his friend. "My dad said she's his second favorite character."

Rick read through dialogue between a man who was missing a hand and a strikingly beautiful woman with a sword. She was expressing hurt for not being able to find her daughters. Rick flipped to the next page, and shook his head in disbelief. _Alexandria's your home. Catania._

Rick closed the comics and breathe in hard, he shakily handed the comic to Carl.

"Dad, you okay?"

"I'll be back Carl."

Rick put his socks and boots back on. He stood up turning his back to the boys, he placed one hand on his waist and covered his mouth. His thoughts scrambling to understand.

"It's only a comic Mr. Grimes," Patrick called out to him, his words lacked the reassurance Rick needed.

"Dad?"

"I said I'll be back. I'm okay."

Rick saw ahead of him, Lori and Shane. Shane was grilling and Lori sat on top of the picnic table. Whatever they were talking about, Lori thought it was funny. She laughed heartily, her long hair blowing in her face from the wind.

Shane was equally enjoying the conversation. Rick shook his head, shaking away the confusion the comic book caused, but to no avail. He stalked closer to them, Lori stepped down from the table and stood next to Shane, both of their backs to Rick. He watched as she placed her hand on Shane's shoulder. Shane leaned in closer to her and whispered in her ear. Rick's face redden, despite the weather, a sheen of sweat broke on his cheeks and forehead. Shane and Lori were oblivious to Rick standing feet away. Rick's gaze fixated on their movements; the small smile on Lori's face when Shane pulled away and his hands moving Lori's hair from her face.

"Anything I should know?" They both turned around, Lori removed her hand and placed it in her jeans pocket.

"You remember when I set Lori's hair on fire? Tell your dear wife that I only singed a tiny piece, couldn't even tell." Shane grinned, he flipped over the burgers and nudged Lori.

"Yes, you could tell," Lori disputed. "I had to wear hats for the rest of the summer because of you," she sat back on the table, her jaw was clenched and she ran her other hand through her hair.

"What's wrong?" Rick asked. She shook her head.

"Nothing." They both looked at each other, trying to read the other.

"Well, your hair grew back. No harm, no foul," Shane said, he placed the finished burgers on a plate. He then opened the cooler that was sitting on the table by Lori and pulled out two beers. He then entered Rick's view, holding out one of the beers for him.

"Nah," Rick declined. Shane turned and offered the same beer to Lori which she accepted. Rick could hear Carl and Patrick in the distance talking, he turned his head to see that they were still by the lake, hunched over the comic whose contents gnawed on Rick's brain. Rick flex his fingers, trying to loosen up the tension in his hands.

Shane's laugh ringing in his ear made Rick gaze up. Shane was pointing his finger at Lori and each time she tried to grab it, he'd move it away.

"How long?" Rick heard himself speak, but he felt like someone else was the ventriloquist and he was the puppet.

"Rick?" Lori squinted her eyes and Shane took a swig from his beer.

"How long have you two been screwing behind my back?"

"Rick!" Lori's eyes widen.

"What!" Shane choked on his beer. "You better be…" Shane coughed in between his words. Rick was impetuous, their shock expressions did nothing to make him want to reevaluate his accusations.

"I'd prefer not waiting until the world goes to shit for you two to tell me the truth."

"Are you out of your mind," Lori got up and walked to Rick, her tone was low and carefully controlled and her eyes bounced between Rick and Carl's location. "Do you hear yourself?"

"Man, did you start drinking before we got here? Not fair," Shane lightly chuckled and swallowed more beer.

"You think this is funny," Rick spat. He stalked towards Shane only to be stopped by Lori stepping in between them. "I want the truth," he said eyeing Shane. "I'm owed the truth," he said more quietly, turning his gaze to Lori.

"You need help," she replied. Rick nostrils flared, "Shane and I are not sleeping together. You have a lot of nerve," she huffed.

"Rick I would never step over that line. I'm an asshole, but you're my brother. And Lori loves you, what you're doing is madness."

Rick closed his eyes. What was once fragmented memories and darkness became clearer in his mind, whether those memories were real or not, Rick didn't care. He remembered what Lori and Shane put him through. He opened his eyes and tilted his head.

"You stay away from my family," Rick forcibly moved Lori out of his face. Shane glowered.

"Get out of my face, man." Shane lifted his chin and raised his chest.

"Stop, now," Lori grabbed Rick's arm and tried to pull him away from Shane. "Why are you doing this?"

Rick pulled away from Lori's grasp and backed away. "You have a lot of nerve to act this way in front of our son," Lori continued. If Carl knew there was commotion, he was doing a great job pretending to not notice. "Shane is not just your friend, he's mine as well and he is helping me while you lose your shit." She then scoffed, "I should be the one wondering if you're cheating on me, who's Michonne?"

Rick painfully stared at Lori, the very mention of Michonne's name were bringing forth the tears.

"Oh my God," Lori gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand and then clutch her chest. Shane stepped forward, reaching out to her.

"Lori," Rick's voice strained, he felt as if he was holding onto his mind by his fingertips.

"Let's all... let's all just calm down. And talk this out," Shane suggested.

"I should have known," she whispered. "You came up with some cockamamie story about nightmares to cover up your lies. It makes so much sense."

"There is no Michonne," Rick's said sullenly.

"Screw you," she spat. Her hands balled into fists, she shook her head and turn to Shane. Shane open his arms and gave her a hug which only reignited Rick's anger.

Rick marched back to them and shoved Shane.

"I said stay away from them. I don't trust you," Rick hissed. Shane looked up at the sky and clicked his tongue and then back at Rick.

"I said enough Rick," Lori tried to step in between them again, but Rick got right into Shane's face.

"You want to do this man," Shane smiled, but it soon wavered. "In front of your son?"

"I know you. I know what you're capable of, my son will be fine without you in it."

"Humph, it's like that?" Shane raised his eyebrow.

"It's like that."

"See now, I don't think it's like that because the way you've been acting indicates to me that you're heading for an early grave."

"Shane, stop—"

"You're threatening me?" Rick's pulse quicken.

"I would never hurt you, you're my brother, but your son needs his father and your wife needs her husband and you sure the hell ain't acting like either."

Rick took one foot back and swung his fist, hitting Shane in the mouth.

"Rick!" Lori screamed out. "Shane, no!" Shane spit out blood that was collecting in his mouth from his lip and lunged for Rick, but Lori grabbed his arm and tried to keep him back. Rick squared up, ready for his best friend to attack.

"Dad!" Rick turned and saw Carl and Patrick running to them.

"Get out of here!" Lori shouted, "Leave Rick." Shane was pacing behind her, veins popping in his neck, and glaring holes into Rick. With Carl now present to the situation, Rick frowned and lowered his eyes. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he tried to count to ten, but his rage would not subside.

"Dad?" Carl breathlessly ran to his father's side, Rick went to reach out to him, but Lori pulled Carl to her and held him.

"Mom…" Carl groaned and wiggled.

"I said go," Lori repeated. Rick opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. Lori's eyes narrowed and Carl looked confused.

"I'm sorry Carl," was all Rick could mustered, he turned away from all of them and headed for the car.

…

"Another one."

"Officer Grimes, you might want to slow down—"

"Rick. It's Rick."

The young bartender just nodded and filled Rick's glass with whiskey. Rick picked it up and gave her a salute and then drank the liquid in one gulp. The back of his throat burned and his eyes watered, but the immediate hazy effect made it worth it.

"Leave it," he instructed, the bartender was about to put away the half-empty bottle. She looked to be debating the pros and cons of cutting Rick off for the night.

Rick didn't wait for her to make a decision, he reached over and grabbed the bottle from her hand, he then dug in his pockets and pulled out his wallet. Removing two twenties, he placed it on the counter and looked at her. Frowning, she picked up the cash and left him alone to tend to other patrons.

Rick took his glass, bottle, and wallet and got up from the bar. Wobbling as he stood, he stopped for a moment to regain his balance before heading to the booth. It was in the darkest, furthest corner, away from the chatter and noise of those having a much better day than him.

Sitting down, he poured himself another drink. Filling the glass to the top, not caring that he was spilling the liquor all over the table and himself as he drowned his throat. He sat the glass down and stared at his hands in front of him, no matter how much he squinted his hands were still blurry. Rick's stomach rumbled, he needed food, but opted to fill his stomach with another glass of whiskey. Swallowing, he closed his eyes and allowed her to invade his thoughts.

"You promised Michonne," he said out loud. "You said we didn't die, _we_ included you, but ya lied." Rick's speech was beginning to slur, his head bobbed up and down as he tried to fight off his drowsiness.

"I'm not crazy. What we had was real," he whispered. "I loved you, you made me fall in love with you only to disappear from my life. You and Lori are both liars."

He grabbed the almost empty whiskey bottle and poured more into his glass, but missed. Rick shrugged off his alcohol induced clumsiness and chugged the remaining whiskey, once empty, he tossed it across the table.

"You're going to take someone's eye out." The familiar voice temporarily woke him from his stupor.

"Go away."

"Rick? You want to talk about it?" Rick could hear the other person sitting down across from him.

"I don't remember giving you an invitation to sit."

"I'm a party crasher kind of guy!" The guy's smooth baritone voice broke into a laugh. Rick grunted, dismissing the man's joke and sat in silence, his thoughts clashed with each other like oceans waves against rocks. Thoughts of Michonne, thoughts of Lori.

"Rick?" He ignored the man from across the table, he wanted more whiskey and his stomach was turning into knots. Suddenly he began laughing, he opened his eyes to see Morgan who was only wearing a white dress shirt, his navy tie was loosen around the collar and his matching jacket was on the table. There was no sign of concern for Rick which was a relief.

"You think I'm nuts," Rick said to him.

"Why would you say that?"

"Cause from your perspective," Rick slurred the word _perspective_ and wiped his mouth, "I'm mourning a stranger."

"She clearly was more than a stranger to you."

"Michonne was my light," he stopped laughing. He blinked his eyes a couple of times to keep from crying. "I know what you're thinking?" Morgan's face hadn't change. "What about your wife?" Rick said mockingly.

"I was given a second chance with my wife. But, how can I take advantage of it when I still have memories of her fucking my best friend. And this bullshit second chance came when I was happy with Michonne. She gets me, she would've known what to do, but she's gone."

Morgan lowered his brows and gazed at Rick, "I'll take you home."

"No. I'm good." Rick leaned over to the side, his head feeling too heavy to sit on his shoulders without support. He closed his eyes again, giving in to much needed sleep. He soon felt a tug on his arm, he lazily opened one eye to see Morgan. He shut it and sluggishly moved his arm away from the other man, his efforts caused him to bump his head on the wall.

"I have you friend, let me take you home." Rick felt his weight being shifted as Morgan pulled on his arm more forcibly. He made Morgan's efforts easier by scooting out of the booth. Rick put his hands out in front of him, he took one step and the room began spinning. "Whoa now, easy." Morgan gripped Rick's arm tighter.

"I said I was fwine," his speech becoming progressively worse, Rick shook his head. Morgan gave Rick no response except to continue to guide Rick out of the bar.

Like a toddler learning how to walk, Rick took slow small steps through the bar. He could see through his cloudy vision people looking at him and he tried to tune his ears to their conversations, listening for his name.

Soon, cool air hit and the smell of the outdoors hit his face. Rick made it to Morgan's SUV, Morgan opened the passenger door and helped Rick entered it. Rick tried to put his seatbelt on, but after one attempt he gave up and leaned his head back on the headrest. Morgan, instead, placed the seatbelt on Rick for him and closed the door.

Rick's thoughts replayed what happened at the lake, he was wrong, he knew he was wrong, but he shrugged his shoulders. The car shifted as Morgan entered into the driver's side and started up the ignition.

"I don't want to go home," Rick muttered. He glanced at Morgan and swallowed, "I can't."

Morgan smiled, "I've got you." Rick nodded and turned his head towards the window, he watched more people coming out of the bar as the car began moving and eventually he shut them all out, drifting into sleep.

 _Knock. Knock._

Rick woken and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He lifted his head and looked around the bedroom, squinting at the unfamiliar objects in the room. He laid his head back down and groaned into the pillow as yesterday's events replayed in his head.

 _Knock. Knock._

"Come in," he moved his legs off the bed and sat up. Yawning, he covered his mouth and wiped the crust from the corner of his mouth. A young black boy entered the room carrying a pile of neatly folded clothes and toiletries in his arms.

"My mom told me to give you this," the kid looked to be Carl's age, he had a small afro and chubby cheeks. Rick took the pile from his outreached hands.

"Thank you."

"There's a bathroom across the hall. Mom said feel free to get yourself presentable and dad said he wanted you to come down and eat." Rick nodded, the little boy eyed Rick, taking in the stranger's presence.

"What's your name?" Rick asked.

"Duane."

"Rick," Rick held out his hand for Duane to shake. Duane took it, Rick's hand encompass his, Duane smiled and Rick smiled back.

"I'm not allowed to call adults by their first name."

"Then you can call Mr. Grimes," Duane nodded and walked back to the door, he gave Rick another smile and closed the door.

…

Clean and refresh, Rick decided to keep his jeans on, but replaced his soiled shirt with what he assumed was one of Morgan's old college t-shirts. It had the words _Morehouse_ printed across it, Rick cleaned up behind himself in the bathroom and walked out. His stomach began rumbling as he smelled bacon from downstairs.

Morgan's house was much bigger than Rick's, Rick observed that on the floor he was walking through there were about five rooms and a balcony that had plenty of room to lounge on.

Rick made his way downstairs, also, unlike his home, there were no pictures decorating the walls and there were boxes tucked all over the living room and one couch occupying the spacious space. Rick let his nose lead him into the dining area where Duane was already sitting there, eating his breakfast of eggs and bacon. The kitchen was just as spacious as the living room, but not as empty. Rick observed Morgan dancing with his wife, both of them laughing, he dipped her and then swung her around.

"Uhh uhh, I am too old for that," her voice was high and lively, she swatted Morgan away and distributed more scrambled eggs onto several plates.

"You are never too old to have fun, baby." Morgan put his arms around her waist from behind and kissed her neck. Rick turned his head, giving those two privacy.

"Hey," he said to Duane, he sat in the chair next to him.

"Hi," Duane said in between bites of food. Rick held his abdominal which was reminding him he hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday morning.

"Hey friend! Good morning!" Morgan cheerfully greeted Rick, he was carrying two plates of food. Rick began to get up, but Morgan shook his head. "Nope, sit down, here's a plate for you. Eat." Morgan sat down Rick's plate of delicious breakfast, Rick didn't hesitate to pick up his fork and started digging in.

"You want any coffee, Rick?" Morgan's wife came into the room making Rick look up from his plate. She was a very beautiful woman, regal, with a big bright smile.

Rick swallowed the chunk of food he had in his mouth, "Yes Ma'am."

"Please do not call me ma'am, Jenny, ok."

"Yes, Jenny." She walked to Rick's side and sat down a coffee cup, and poured fresh coffee into the cup. The aroma of the rich bean made Rick more alert and awake.

"Any sugar, cream."

"Nah, just black is what I need this morning," he nodded his gratitude for her hospitality and took a sip.

"You feeling better?" Morgan sat across from him with his own plate of food.

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you," Rick twisted his wedding ring around his finger.

"I am truly sorry for not bringing you better news about Michonne." Rick made a quick jerk of his head and shoved more food in his mouth. "I have the obituary in my briefcase, if—"

"Morgan, let the man eat," Jenny sat down next to him and gave Rick a small smile. Rick appreciated her sympathy, but shook his head.

"It's fine. I don't need it Morgan." Rick met Morgan's eyes. Morgan eyebrows raised, but quickly lowered as he nodded his head. "But, if you don't mind me asking, how did she pass?"

"Duane, you done over there," Duane looked at his dad dejected, it seemed like he wanted to protest, but he got up from the table and left the dining area. Jenny grabbed Morgan's hand with hers and grimaced. Rick felt his heart racing again and even though his stomach was full of food, the ache didn't go away.

"It was a car accident," Morgan continued. "Drunk driver ran her off the road." Rick nodded and blink rapidly. "Was she married when you met her?"

"What?" Rick's eyes widen. "No, no."

"She left behind a son and a husband."

Rick bent his head down, his tears falling onto his eggs. His Michonne had a life and even if she was still alive, what right would he had to disrupt it based off a crazy assumption. Rick felt foolish, he didn't know what was wrong with him, but he decided in that moment he needed to move on.

"I'm here for you Rick. I don't know what she meant to you, but I'm here to help you move past this." Rick wiped his face and gazed up at Morgan and his wife Jenny. He mouthed the words 'thank you.'

"Daddy," Duane spoke behind Rick. All three adults turned to the young boy. "Someone's on the phone for you."

Morgan got up and walked around the table and out the room, Duane followed behind him, leaving only Rick and Jenny.

"I don't know if you know this, but Morgan's speaks the world of you. The few years you two knew each other had a profound effect on him." She beamed, happiness radiated from her bright face. "His words."

Rick didn't know what to say to that, he still didn't remember his past with Morgan, so he nodded.

Morgan shortly returned, "Hey, you wanna come with me?" He asked Rick.

"Where?"

"Crime scene. It's probably your day off, but I want your eyes and expertise by my side."

"You mean be your partner?"

"Yeah, just for a couple of hours. Try your hand at being a detective."

"Okay," Rick wasn't ready to go home anyway.

"Let's go."

…

Rick's stomach dropped when Morgan pulled up to the little house that Rick and Shane had just been at two days ago.

Getting out of the car, Rick gave Officer Kendal a nod, practically the entire Sheriff's department was here except for one glaring absence.

"Thought you had the day off," Kendal stepped around a group of officers to greet Rick.

"Morgan invited me."

"Yeah, the new detective," Kendal said with disdain in his voice. "Didn't take him long to get acquainted around here, been making moves like he's the new chief."

"He grew up here, Kendal. And we're not exactly the FBI."

"He grew up here? I knew you when you were still shitting in your diapers. That Morgan fellow, seen him for the first time a couple of days ago."

"How's Leon?" Rick asked, changing the subject. He didn't have the energy to figure out the conundrum that was wrapped around Morgan.

"Still in a coma," Kendal's eyes downturned as he spoke of his partner's condition. "Hoping he wakes up soon." Rick patted Kendal on the shoulder.

"I'll go visit him tomorrow. I'm heading inside."

"It's a blood bath in there." Rick's mouth dried and he was beginning to perspire, _why did you bail him out_?

The forensics team in their white suits were coming in and out carrying equipment. Morgan was walking ahead of him, he greeted another detective who face was paled and he was holding his mouth. Morgan looked behind at Rick and frowned, Rick grimaced.

Rick entered the home that he was previously denied from and immediately saw what was making the other detective sick. There was blood all over the TV, couches, walls and carpet. A woman, that was wearing the forensics suit handed both Rick and Morgan paper slippers and face masks. Putting on the protective items, Rick turned to the crime scene.

"What's your first thought," Morgan asked, he too was scanning the room.

"Anger," Rick observed the body in the middle of the floor. Despite the fact that the cranium was smashed beyond recognition, Rick knew who it was and was relieved. "The victim is Ed Peletier." He walked closer to the body, Ed's arms lain outward, the carpet and floor had a dent in it. Whatever blunt object that was used to kill Ed, hit the floor with enough force to dent it. Sweat trickled in Rick's eyes, there was familiarity to what he was seeing, but again, he couldn't remember why that was.

"WHY IS HE HERE?" Rick turned to the woman screaming, officers were holding Carol back. Her whole front dress was drenched in blood and tears streamed down her face. She pointed her finger at Rick as she struggled to move the officers out of her way.

"He killed my husband!"

Rick's mouth opened as everyone in the room turned and looked at him.

 _Shit._


	6. Commitment

**Chapter 6: Commitment**

" _He's got them throwing grenades at us!" Abraham Ford ran behind a makeshift barrier, dodging another grenade that was tossed in his direction. Michonne spotted the thrower and fired her gun, her bullet hit the guy in the mouth, shattering his nose and jaw._

" _We need to regroup," she said breathing heavily when Abraham ran to her side. She scanned the scene before her, the Saviors were here sooner than expected. She could hear the devil himself outside, barking orders and taunting Rick. Speaking of Rick, Michonne couldn't see him, with Abraham following behind her she ran past Alexandrians whom either were getting into their assigned positions or running to safety._

" _Move!" She yelled at one of the men who stood frozen in fear. "If you're not out here to fight, you're only in the way." The man, clutching his pistol, shakenly nodded, and joined a group of Alexandrians._

 _Another explosion rang in Michonne's ears, just as she saw Rick a block away, herding people away from the danger._

" _Mother-dick! They blew a hole into the wall," Abraham raised his M16 and fired at the Saviors that were coming through. Michonne could see Rick doing the same, she heard screaming behind her and she turned to see that some of the Saviors had gotten into the gate and were shooting down residents. One of them ran towards Michonne and Abe, firing shots, Abe shoved Michonne out of the way of gunfire. Michonne watched as a bullet shredded Abe's bicep, before she could do anything she was tackled down to the ground._

" _Get off me!" She screamed._

" _Michonne!" It was Rick that had her on the ground, she turned her head to see Rick looking all around them. "We can make it to the house, regroup, and continued as plan." Michonne nodded and from the corner of her eye, she saw another man about to attack them with a hunting knife. Michonne took Rick's colt out of his hand and shot twice into the man's chest and head. Rick looked behind him to see the dead man fall to the grown and then back to her, he licked his lips and gave her a quick kiss on the lips._

" _Let's go." Rick got off of Michonne and pulled her to her feet. Before they could even catch a breath a big burly man grabbed Rick from behind and tossed him to the ground. Michonne pulled out her katana and tried to come to Rick's aide, but she was grabbed as well. Michonne swung her fist which connected to her attacker's face and punched him again. Her attacker let go, giving Michonne time to swing her katana, but the man grabbed her hair._

" _Aww!" She yelled out, the pain only temporarily dazed her. She slashed at the man with her weapon, slicing through his flesh. She then turned to see Rick tussling with his attacker._

 _BOOM!_

 _Another grenade landed much closer to them. Michonne looked over and saw Rick on the ground, he wasn't moving. Her heart beat faster as she tried to shake off the shock. She tried to run as fast as she could, but her legs felt heavy and the ground was like sand. Her attacker came at her from the side, but she dodged him and stabbed him right in the heart. Kicking him off her katana, she continued towards her destination, towards the man she loved; reaching her hand out to him._

 _BOOM!_

 _Michonne felt her feet leave the ground, there was a loud ringing in her ears, and then she felt her back and head bounce against a hard object and she fell onto the ground. She'd never felt so much pain before, her head felt like it could explode any minute. She tried to will herself to stand, but she couldn't move and her vision grew dimmer as she started to feel sleepy._

…

The alarm on Michonne's phone went off for the fourth time, she picked it up again, hit snooze and then tossed it on the pile of clothes that were on the floor. She attempted to go back to sleep again, but the pain in her hand and the responsibilities of the day were gnawing on her brain. _Get up, your problems won't go away by being in bed all day_ , she thought, but her body still refused to move.

She tried meditating, focusing on her breathing and clearing her mind. Right when she was finally able to doze off, Michonne felt movement on her bed and a person pressing against her.

"Michonne?" Mike's deep voice whispered softly in her ear causing her to flinch.

"Hmm."

"Taking another day off?" He put his arm around her and moved her dreads out of her face.

"No, I'll get up soon," she felt his touches trailing down her arm towards her injured hand. Her skin prickled at the contact.

"Baby, what did you do?"

"I punched the mirror in the guest bathroom," she said nonchalantly. Mike sighed, Michonne opened one eye and saw that Mike's hand was hovering her injured one. Michonne moved her hand out of his reach, wincing at the pain she felt.

"Why did you punch the mirror?"

"Upset."

There was a long pause, "Michonne. We need to talk," he said.

"I know," she sat up on her forearm and wiped the sleep from her eyes and then grabbed the bottle of Vicodin on her nightstand. She tried to open it with one hand, but after a couple of failed attempts, Mike took the bottle from her hand and opened it for her. He put two pills in her hand and handed her the cup of water. "Thank you," she popped the pills in her mouth and swallowed a huge gulp of water and handed the glass back to Mike.

"Talk to me and I'll listen," Mike wrapped his arm around Michonne, pulling her in. She rested her head on his shoulder and contemplated whether she should tell him the complete truth.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night, it was out of bounds and you didn't deserve that," Michonne's cheeks burned, remembering how she spoke to Mike.

"I knew you didn't mean it," he said. Michonne looked at him and raised her eyebrows at his claim. "Ok after a couple of beers I realized you didn't mean it, but why did you say it?"

"Nightmares." Michonne shook her head and picked at her bandage. "Since Monday, I've been having these nightmares, horrible and Mike, I…" Michonne swallowed.

"You can tell me baby," Mike placed his hand on Michonne's thigh, she stopped messing with her injured hand and placed it on top of his.

"I keep dreaming about Andre dying, it's driving me a bit mad," she half-heartedly chuckle.

"You think it could be post-partum?" Michonne shook her head.

"Andre is almost three years old, I don't think that's how it works."

"Do you think your nightmare mean something then?"

"No," she said quickly. "I think… I think they're just a symptom of my fall, Andre's fine, right?"

Mike looked towards the door, "He's good. I checked on him and he's sound asleep."

"Ok."

"If it makes you feel any better, the ferocious mother lioness is a sexy look on you," Mike grinned. Michonne rolled her eyes and returned the grin.

"More like paranoid freak," Michonne sighed, "I'm really sorry."

"And I forgive you. I love you, what happened last night is small." Michonne bit her lip and grimaced at Mike's 'I love you,' as she replayed in her mind her on the bathroom floor crying and calling out for another man.

"I love you too," she whispered. The room was eerie quiet, she wished she knew what Mike was thinking and she wondered if she told him what she was really going through would he understand or recoil that she was having an emotional affair with an imaginary person.

"Michonne," Mike spoke, finally breaking the silence in the room.

"Yes."

"There's been something I've been wanting to ask you for a while," Mike removed his arm from around her and Michonne's stomach tighten.

 _He knows_ , she thought.

"I wanted to make this a bigger deal. You know dinner, parents, and a slideshow of our baby pictures," he laughed. Michonne held her stomach, suddenly realizing that she hadn't eaten in a long time as it churned. Mike scooted to the floor and held kneeled on one knee in between her legs.

"Mike?" She spoke softly.

"Michonne, eight years ago I was running the streets, thinking I was a big shot with a fucking chip on my shoulder, and headed nowhere fast, and then I tried to run game on this sexy fine ass lady," Michonne laughed. "She told me she wasn't interested and ignored me the whole night, but then we coincidentally met again."

"Coincidentally?" Michonne smirked, for years she thought Mike purposely ran into her that day.

"God's truth, fate brought us together," he held Michonne's left hand and gently caressed it. "And she gave me a chance to become the man that I am today. She believed in me and she believes in us."

Tears welled in Michonne's eyes, "I didn't think we would make it a year, wait,' Mike paused, looking up at the ceiling as if he was deep in thought, "we didn't, we broke up, right, forgot about that, my bad."

They both burst into laughter, Mike continued, "but despite some turbulence, me and this lady have been holding it down strong and now with little man getting bigger like daddy and smarter like mommy, it's time. Matter of fact, I should've done this six years ago."

Michonne's breath hitched as Mike pulled out a small black box from his pocket, he held it in his hand and then opened it. Their eyes met and Michonne saw tears fall from his eyes, she bit her lip again wanting to stop him, but then wanting to stop those thoughts in her head.

"I love you Michonne, you and Andre are my whole world. I want our family to continue to grow and evolve and I can't—," he stopped himself and wiped away his tears. Michonne felt fresh tears on her face as she tried to process what was happening.

"Michonne Leia Cassel," Mike took out the ring and looked up at her, "will you take me as your husband?"

Michonne opened her mouth and then closed it, she wiped her face, and watched as Mike patiently waited for her answer. _I can't, but why?_ There was a thickness in her throat that made it hard for her to speak. She coughed and closed her eyes for a moment, _I have my family back that's all that matters_.

"Yes!"

Mike clap his hands and grinned widely, he then reached up and kissed her cheek and moved towards her mouth, capturing her lips with his. He climbed on top of Michonne as she laid down on the bed. Their tongues wrestled and Mike moaned as he gyrated his hips in between her legs.

 _This is wrong. I'm supposed to be happy right now_. Conflicting thoughts sped through Michonne's mind, she closed her eyes tightly trying to shut them away. Mike kissed along her chin towards her neck and sucked on her sensitive skin. She clung to his shirt with her good hand when she felt his own squeeze her breast.

"I have to get ready," Michonne pushed against Mike's chest.

"Twenty minutes, give me twenty minutes," he pleaded, lightly pinching Michonne's nipple between his fingers. Michonne moaned again and tried to muster the strength to pushed Mike again when Andre's cries entered their room. Michonne quietly thanked her son as Mike stopped his actions.

"Rain check?" She asked.

"Mmm, not fair," he mumbled, pulling away from her, she watched as he adjusted his bulge and fixed his clothing. "I'll get him ready," he said.

Michonne got up from bed and grabbed her phone from the pile of clothing and turned her alarm off.

"Hey," Mike softly called out to her at the door. "You and I are celebrating tonight."

Michonne nodded and smiled, but it soon wavered when Mike left the room and she began fidgeting with her new ring.

…

Arriving at the Atlanta City Detention Center, Michonne felt lethargic, she'd took another Vicodin to further dull the pain in her hand earlier, and now the sleepy effects of the pill were showing up. After checking in, a guard led her to a room. The room was a decent size, practically empty with the exception of two chairs, a table, and shackles attached to the floor. It was also windowless and stuffy, Michonne took off her tweed jacket—covering a purple sleeveless A-line dress—and sat down.

"He'll be in here in a few," the guard said. Michonne nodded and placed her briefcase on the table and got out a pen and notebook. She couldn't remember anything about Merle, not even seeing his brother yesterday jogged her memory, but she still felt like she knew of him.

Merle had a long rap sheet, been in and out of jail since he was twelve, abusive and criminal father, mother dead, and the only family he's in touch with is his brother, Daryl. Michonne read through his entire criminal history and on the surface level, Merle did not seem above bashing another man's skull in, but after her freak-out last night...

The images of the crime photos burned in her mind, she knew in her heart that she had personally witness that horror. Except it was someone else, another place, another time, Rick was there, and most alarming the monster that swung the bat, she couldn't recall his name being Merle.

Voices from the hallway were coming closer to the room. The guard that was standing by the door left Michonne's view, she could hear metal shackles dragging on the floor, and a man complaining about his game being interrupted. The guard came back and pulled the other chair out, Michonne turned her attention back to the door as the still complaining man in an orange jumpsuit entered the room, flanked by two prison guards.

"My Nubian queen," the man said to Michonne. He held up his handcuffed hands and waved at her with a big smile across his face. Michonne faced scrunched up watching as the guards sat Merle down in the chair across from her, and cuffing his shackles around his ankles to the ones on the floor.

"Can I get these off?" Merle shook his hands at one of the guards. All three guards ignored him, the one that escorted Michonne rechecked Merle's restraints, gave Michonne a nod, and they left the room.

"Nice to see my lawyer is fine after what happened Monday, very fine," Merle licked his lips. Michonne sighed and placed her notebook in her lap.

"This will be short, I just need to debrief you on our next step." She studied Merle, he looked to be in his late forties-early fifties, but with the immaturity of a man in his twenties. "The trial resumes Tuesday. Prosecution should be wrapping up next week and then our rebuttal will start, hopefully next week Friday."

"My brother told me he came to visit you."

Michonne nodded, "he was concern about your trial."

"And he said you set him straight. I told him you didn't take any shit, but…," he said pointing his finger at her.

"But what?" Michonne carefully crossed her arms so not to put pressure on her injured hand.

"You seem off your game. Not as sharp as you were last week," Merle said leaning forward onto the table, he still had his smirk on his face and was raising an eyebrow at her.

"Mmm because you know me oh so well," Michonne sniped.

"Boyfriend giving you problems?"

"What?" Michonne eyes narrowed, it may have been awhile since she had a client, but she knew she never shared personal information about herself with her clients.

"Oohh, fiancé, I'm sorry." He shrugged and eyed Michonne's engagement ring. "You're having one hell of a week. When did he propose?"

"Stop. You have internet privileges in there? What do you know about me that doesn't pertain to me trying to save your ass from death row?"

"My brother saw roses in your office, he's observant and I'm just assuming."

"Bullshit." Michonne uncrossed her arms and legs, put her notebook and pen on the table and scooted her chair closer to the table, "if I find out you have your brother watching me…"

"Damn girl, relax," he moved back in his seat. His shocked expression soon turned into another grin. "My brother ain't a stalker and I wouldn't ask him to do such a thing. Especially since I like you."

"My God," Michonne said under her breath.

"You're the best damn lawyer I've ever had and the smartest person I've ever met. You're a rarity in the black race," Merle frowned and picked at his handcuffs, "Congratulations on the engagement. Sorry."

Michonne eyes soften and decided to ignore his 'black race' comment, "I'm not here to exchange personal stories; we keep this professional between us." Merle nodded, meeting her gaze.

"Did you find a lead on the guy I told you about?"

Michonne looked at him in confusion before catching herself. "The guy, I told you Shelly was terrified of, remember?"

"We're working on it," Michonne lied.

"I didn't kill them," he said quietly. He folded and then unfolded his hands.

"Of course you didn't." Michonne picked up her pen and notebook again and put them back in her suitcase.

"You don't believe me though," he looked at Michonne, she stopped what she was doing and contemplated his words.

"I wouldn't have taken this case if—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, you wouldn't take it if you didn't think you could win. You believe you can win, but do you believe I did it?"

 _Eenie Meenie Mighty Moe. That wasn't Merle I saw_.

"I believe you didn't kill them," she nodded her head, "I do," she said looking Merle in the eye to reassure him.

"You gotta find the real killer or something. I'm telling you, Shelly was fucking terrified of this guy. She told me a couple of times he would kill her if he found her. I thought that was junkie talk and Dwight," Merle shook his head. "Yeah Dwight and I argued, we even got into that fight, but he wasn't afraid of me. But, he was definitely afraid of someone else."

Michonne swallowed, _this can't be the same person_ , she thought, but her skin prickled as Merle talked and her heartbeat quicken. "You find that guy, you set me free."

"Merle. Do not put all your hope into us finding the real killer. Even if we did, it's not a complete guarantee it would set you free. The jury has to have doubt that you didn't kill that couple. I can placed that doubt into their minds without actually having to find the real killer." Michonne closed her briefcase, "I've done it before with much tougher cases than yours, and I can do it again."

"Ok."

Michonne got up from her seat, grabbed her briefcase and jacket, and stuck out her hand. Merle took it, his hands were cold and his grip was firm. "That's a nice rock he gave you," Michonne jerked her hand from his, walked to the door and knocked on it.

"I'll meet with you Tuesday morning before trial begins." The guards began entering the room.

"Bye my Nubian queen," Merle called out to her.

Michonne rolled her eyes and waved goodbye and followed one of the guards back to the jail's lobby.

…

Michonne sat at her desk, twirling the engagement ring in her hand. She had taken it off and put it back on over a dozen times. The ring was perfect, but as she put it back on her finger for the thirteenth time, it still didn't feel right.

"Don't you even," she chastised herself for allowing tears to well up in her eyes. Michonne was tired of crying, she gather up her notes and began to work. Turning on her recorder, she spoke to it.

"Merle knew the couple; the woman Sherry owed him money for the meth he was selling her and he started accepting sex as a payment. The other victim, Dwight, Merle stated he had fought with him. And there are witnesses that can attest that Merle threatened to kill Dwight, a week before his death. But Merle states that Dwight was not afraid of him, but instead someone else."

Michonne sighed, "Merle does have an alibi, but it's weak, his brother says he was with Merle that night, drinking beer. Have Christie prep Daryl Dixon for the stand—."

"Me! I'm not the only assistant you have." Christie closed the door behind her after entering Michonne's office. Michonne was hoping that her friend had decided to not come in this Friday.

"I need him prep. Should have been done weeks ago. And I trust you the most," Michonne noticed the pout on Christie's face. " because you are smart, Christie. The way you outlined and presented different arguments for me is better than any third year law student—"

"First year," Christie sat down. "It's my first year."

Michonne cocked her head to the side, she couldn't recall being the type to want law school babies helping her with her cases, so why Christie?

"Oh my God!" Christie shouted and grabbed Michonne's hand. "No way, he proposed?"

"Yes way," she said with much less enthusiasm.

"It's beautiful," Christie leaned over the desk and moved Michonne's hand closer to her face so she could inspect the ring. "How many carats?"

"I don't know," Michonne frowned.

"You don't know!? It's gotta be four carats, maybe even five. Round cut, nice. Oh my God, Michonne it has purple accents, he really put forth effort into this ring." Michonne didn't comment, she watched Christie's excitement and hated herself for not completely feeling the same.

Christie looked up and frowned. "Ok, you owe me one for scaring the shit out of me last night. Who's Rick?"

Michonne glanced to the left and viewed the roses Mike gave her.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not an idiot, at least not completely. This Rick is keeping you from being happy that you're engage to be married."

Michonne removed her hand and lower her gaze to her desk, "You're going to think I'm crazy."

"Too late," Michonne looked back at Christie to see her smiling. "Seriously, no judgment from me, what's going on?"

For the second time today she was asked this, but this time Michonne felt comfortable being truthful.

"I feel like I've been living another life, not living, just surviving. When I woke up Monday, I… I hadn't seen this world in a long time." Michonne took off her ring again and sat it in front of her. "I lived in a nightmare, but" Michonne sighed, "a nightmare that was on an upswing. That sounds dumb."

"No, I get it," Christie reassured.

"Rick. Rick Grimes was the reason for that upswing. In my other life, Mike was… gone and so was Andre," Michonne began to cry, "and I was lost and alone and not the person you see today or better yet, not the person you saw before I passed out." She sniffed and wiped her face.

"And this Rick changed you?"

Michonne nodded, "I'm in love with someone I don't know exists."

"Wow!" Christie sat back down in her chair and slumped down. "And Mike?"

"I love him too, it's just…" Michonne trailed off.

"You need closure. My therapist said you can't move forward without facing the thing that's holding you back. We should find out if Rick Grimes is real or not."

"No, I can't."

"Michonne."

"This isn't fair to Mike or Andre. Breaking up my family because of a dream."

"A dream you believe happened."

"But, it makes no sense. None. Say we find Rick, he has a family as well. I mean in our other life, he had two kids…" Michonne stopped; _Carl and Judith_. "This is unreal," Michonne put her head down and started to mourn what a mess her and her life has become.

"Stop freaking out. I'll help you," Christie said.

"No," Michonne put her head in her hands. "No, my issues can wait, we need to prepare for Tuesday."

Christie picked up her phone and began typing away on it.

"I spoke to Merle earlier today, we need…," Michonne looked at Christie who was still on her phone. Annoyed she cleared her throat, alerting the other woman.

Christie eyes left her screen and met Michonne's, "Did you know there are like three hundred _Rick Grimes_ 's in the U.S. Twenty-three in Georgia."

"I said no. We need a new suspect, find out who were all of the victims' associates, friends, family, and ex-lovers."

"Is this him?" Michonne jerked her head to see Christie's screen.

"No!" The man on Christie's phone was obese and balding. Christie laughed, "Just checking."

"Get to work," Michonne said sharply. Michonne's phone began vibrating on her desk, she picked it up and saw that the number was blocked.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Cassel. It's me Spencer."

"Who?" She didn't know who Spencer was, he was not on the list of people she was able to remember.

"Your employee."

Michonne mouthed to Christie, Spencer's name.

"Geez. I'm glad I'm not the only one you don't remember," Christie retorted. Michonne rolled her eyes and put her phone on speaker.

"Sorry Spencer," Michonne said, deciding to pretend to know the man, "where are you?"

"You had me find out who Dwight was dealing with,"

"Wait, I did?"

"You said we needed to find a new suspect last week," Michonne looked up at Christie.

Christie shrugged, "Spencer, Michonne had an accident Monday, so she forgot we were already looking into new suspects." Michonne gave Christie a look of disapproval that the other woman ignore.

"Well, Dwight was part of a biker-type gang, no one would talk to me except for this one guy. He says another lawyer had come around months ago, snooping."

"That was probably Merle's old lawyer or Mr. Jackass Prosecutor," said Christie.

"Go on," said Michonne.

"He said the person I should really talk to wasn't here, but out of town."

"Did you get a name?" Michonne asked.

"He wouldn't say. Matter of fact, I'm getting out of here as quickly as I can. These people are the real deal, scary."

"That's ok, will you be back, Monday?"

"No because something huge happened yesterday. This could be a breakthrough for us, Ms. Cassel," Spencer said excitedly. Both Michonne and Christie perked up, "I got this friend that works at _Atlanta_ Journal, he was given a tip thatsomeone was just murdered in a similar fashion as the two victims, over in King's County; small town and there's a rumor that a cop did it. I'm going to head out—"

"No," Michonne quickly stood up, her chair fell backwards. "Christie and I will go. I want you back here prepping Mr. Dixon's brother for the stand."

"But, I'm not far," he protested.

"Spencer, I need you here," she said emphatically.

Michonne heard Spencer sigh, "Ok, I'll be back in Atlanta in a couple of hours."

Michonne ended the call and gazed at Christie who appeared stunned by the change of events.

"King's County can't be too far." She opened her browser on her phone and typed in the town's name.

"Michonne why do we need to go?"

Michonne didn't answer, her hand shook as she waited for the directions to pull up. _How could I've forgotten this place_ , she thought.

"Michonne stop." Christie put her hand on Michonne's arm. Michonne didn't realize Christie had even moved from her seat. The page finished loading, she scanned the directions and looked at the clock.

"If we leave now we can be there by six. I have to call Mike."

"He's there, isn't he," she asked stepping in front of Michonne.

"I don't know."

"But you think he could be?"

"Yes." Michonne swallowed the lump that was in the back of her throat as Christie and her made eye contact.

"Why?" Christie asked, shaking her head.

"Because I remember being there with him."

Christie eyes scanned Michonne, she then nodded and began gathering her things. Michonne did as well, but she stopped in the midst of it when she saw her ring still on the table. She looked up to Christie observing her. Michonne picked up the ring and put it back on her finger.

"No matter if he's there or not, I'm not leaving Mike," she said.

Christie didn't say anything, Michonne walked to the door and held it open for her as they began their travel to King's County.

 **Well, will you guys finally get your wish for a reunion? I'll try not to keep anyone waiting for too long, thank you for reading!**


	7. Prelude to a Kiss

**I wanted to give thanks, again, to all those that have read, favorited, followed, and left reviews :) Since it's been taking me longer to get these updates out, I decided to give you all a better idea as to when I will update this story which will be every two weeks AT THE MOST, but if I get a chapter done early, then yay for all of us. I hope you guys enjoy!**

 **Chapter Seven: Prelude to a Kiss**

"You okay?" Morgan asked.

"Couldn't possibly be any better," Rick replied

A waitress came to Rick and Morgan's table and filled both their cups with more coffee. Her hair was half out of a messy bun and her mascara ran down the left side of her cheek. Rick took a sip, burning his tongue in the process, sat it back down, and picked at his ham and cheese sandwich.

"Bad day?" Rick took his eyes off his sandwich and looked up at Morgan. The other man wasn't addressing him, but the waitress picking up his plate. "Chloe?" Morgan squinted his eyes while reading her name tag.

The woman sighed and wiped her hand on her apron, her nail polished was chipped, and her middle finger was massaging a hangnail. "My boyfriend broke up with me," she confessed sullenly.

"I'm sorry about that," Morgan said. Rick eyed Morgan who leaned forward toward Chloe to hear more about her heartache.

"Don't be, he was an asshole. Oh No! I'm so sorry," the woman's eyes widen realizing she swore in front of customers, "I didn't mean to say that."

"No, it's quite alright. We men can be assholes most of the time." Morgan grinned and gave her a wink making her blush. Rick gazed wander between the both of them and then back to his unappetizing sandwich, picking it up, and taking a bite from it. The sandwich was lukewarm in his mouth, and the cheese tasted like rubber. He swallowed another gulp of coffee to wash it down.

"Its just when he's nice. He's really nice, you know what I mean," she said. Morgan nodded and drank from his cup. "But, he's not the settling down type."

"You'll find the right man in no time," the woman beamed at Morgan's words.

"You have anything else?" Rick asked pointing to his plate. The sandwich wasn't going to cut it, Chloe glanced at his pitiful sandwich and mouthed sorry, grabbing the plate from the table.

"Our special today is a Chipotle Bacon Cheeseburger, would you like that?"

"That'll be great," Chloe frowned at his curt manners.

"I'll let the cook know and bring it up as soon as possible." She smiled warmly at Morgan and left their table. It seemed as if Morgan's words put an extra perk in her walk as she left their table.

"I don't think you are okay," Morgan stated matter-of-factly.

Rick shook his head and peered out the window, it being a Friday, the small shopping center was packed with people preparing for the weekend.

"Listen, everything is fine. You're almost in the clear," Morgan said.

Morgan and another detective questioned Rick for half an hour about the incident between him and the newly deceased Ed Peletier. Going over backwards and forwards each moment that Rick could recall. They then reassured Rick that he wasn't a suspect, but Rick didn't like how closely tied he was to the murder.

"Great," he said gruffly. Rick saw out the window, the young black mother with her child from the other day, the child was being fussy and wiggling her way out of her mother's hands while the mother carried several bags of groceries.

"We'll be getting the time of death later in the day. That will confirm you weren't anywhere near the victim and Shane," Rick's eyes briefly cut towards Morgan at the mention of his friend's name. "He backed up what you told us in an official report."

Rick rolled his eyes and looked back out the window, the mother stopped in the middle of the lot to readjust the bags she had in her hand and it appeared that she was telling her squirming toddler to behave. _I wonder if Andre ever gave Michonne that much trouble_ , Rick thought. He doubt it, Michonne had an amazing ability to be get the kids to listen to whatever she said.

"I'll be back." Rick moved past the waitress that was bringing his food to the table and walked out the door. As soon as he stepped outside, the little girl broke from her mom's hand and ran across the lot.

"VALENCIA!" The mother yelled, dropping her groceries. Rick saw that the tot was about to run into incoming traffic and sprinted across the lot. Putting his hands out in an effort to make several cars stop, Rick managed to reach the toddler first, scooping her up, and getting out of the way.

"Hey now where ya think you're going, sweetie?" The little girl stared at Rick, her confusion turned into a smile. They played a bit of a staring game until she turned to her frantic mother that was running towards them.

"Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Baby," the young mother was shaking, removing her braids from out of her face. Rick gently handed Valencia over to the mother who clung to her daughter, holding her close to her chest despite the toddler's movements. When she looked at Rick she had tears in her eyes and grabbed his hand.

"Thank you so much. Thank you, sir," she gasped.

"Its fine," Rick wiped the sweat from his forehead, "I think you need some help with those groceries." The woman lightly laughed and nodded. They walk back to where she dropped her groceries. Rick grabbed her bags while she opened up her car door and placed her still squirming toddler in the car seat.

"Stop it now," she demanded of Valencia and then reached in a diaper bag and pulled out a sippy cup. She handed it to Valencia and turned to Rick. "Let me pop open the trunk there."

While Rick waited, the little girl turned around and tilted her head to the side, mischievously smiling at Rick. _If Michonne and I would've had a child, she would be it_. Suddenly the trunk popped open obscuring Valencia's face. With it opened, Rick neatly put the woman's groceries in it.

"Thank you again, umm…" the woman stood at the side of her car.

"Rick Grimes," he replied.

"I feel like I heard your name before."

Rick shrugged, "Mhm, I'm the Sheriff's Deputy."

"Oh, well my name's Jordyn," she stuck out her hand for Rick to shake, he took it. "I can't thank you enough."

"Again, no need. I know what it's like, my little girl—," Rick paused. "My son," he said and then chuckled, "use to be everywhere except where I told him to be. Tell him to stay put and he'll go missing. Tell him to wait so that daddy can grab wet wipes and I'd come back seeing poop all over the place."

Jordyn laughed hard and Rick smiled. He actually surprise himself that he was still able to be funny. He observed Jordyn, she had a pretty smile, her lips were wearing a bold shade of red that was pleasant against her brown skin, and the rest of her makeup was light.

"So you had it bad?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am. I did."

"She's usually well-behaved, but it is so time for a nap, right?" She said towards her daughter who shook her head.

"How old is she?"

"Two, almost twenty," Jordyn joked.

"She's beautiful," Rick stared at her and had a sudden desire to kiss this complete stranger. Maybe it was the hair or her smile. But from the change in her expression, Rick realize he was starting to creep her out.

"Sorry for leering," he sheepishly ran his fingers through his hair and took a step back. "You remind me of someone."

"An ex?"

"Something like that. You have a good day Jordyn," he said, putting more distance between them. He didn't know why that desire came from, but it wasn't good.

"Thank you again," she called out. Rick gave her a wave and nod and jogged back to the diner.

"You're no murderer, Rick," Morgan said as Rick sat back down at their table. Rick didn't answer because he knew that statement was false. He'd lost count a long time ago the number of people he had to kill.

Rick picked up his burger, the bottom bun was a little soggy which didn't deter him from taking a bite. The taste was an improvement from the ham and cheese, but not by much.

"Do you think you're a murderer?"

"Are you not hungry?" Rick snipped, he was growing bothered by the fact that he was the only one eating.

"Jenny has me on a diet," Morgan replied laughing. "No greasy burgers for me." Rick kept chewing and looked out the window again. Right by the window was Chloe, she was puffing on a cigarette and talking on the phone. She alternated between smoking, making wild gestures with her hand, and wiping tears from her face.

"Are you upset with me?" Morgan's eyebrows were furrowed as his focus was entirely on Rick.

"Why would I be?" Rick shrugged, he had no reason to be mad at Morgan, but he was increasingly becoming irritated being in his presence.

"You didn't answer the question?" Morgan drank the rest of his coffee and folded his used napkin, placing the spoon on top of it.

Rick cracked his neck, he felt like he was being interrogated again. "No," he said wiping his hands on a napkin.

"It's just, I noticed that woman you helped looked like her." Rick shook his head, he didn't want to talk to Morgan about her. "I can't apologize enough that I couldn't provide you with good news about Michonne," he said. Rick pushed his plate away, the scent of the meat and chipotle was starting to make him sick. "Rick talk to me. I might not be Shane, but I'm your friend. I'm here for you."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Last night—"

"Then you know we don't have shit to talk about," Rick retorted. He felt the anger bubbling, he clenched his fists and tried to dial it back. Morgan didn't respond and when Chloe came back, hair even messier and more mascara running down her face, she no longer had that perk and quietly cleaned off their table.

Rick pulled out his wallet, "I got it," Morgan stated, but Rick put a ten on the table.

"You've done enough," Rick's expression soften, "and I thank you."

Morgan gave him a small smile, but he still pulled out an extra ten and placed it on the table.

"For Chloe," he explained. Both men got up from the table and headed for the police station.

* * *

"We're in burning crosses territory," Christie muttered. They were stuck in grass by the side of the road after Christie tried to avoid a turtle crossing the road. Christie stepped on the pedal again, but the sound of the wheels spinning let them both know they weren't going anywhere.

"Stop." Michonne sighed and looked out the window, it was bright and sunny, and the highway they were on was vacant. "We need to put some traction under the wheels," she said. Getting out of the car, Michonne stepped into fresh mud that coated her black combat boots she wore. "Christie, watch out for—"

"SHIT! My Manolos," Christie screamed out. Michonne turned towards her on the other side of the car and tried to contain her laughter.

"For the mud," Michonne finished. I have some rain boots in the trunk." Michonne closed the door and walked over to driver's side of the car, inspecting the front wheel.

Christie leapt to a dry patch in the grass, "this is so your fault," she called out, slowly stepping and leaping from dry patch to dry patch as she made her way to the trunk.

"Considering you're the driver, it's technically your fault," Michonne quipped. Christie's antics and being stuck were a small amusement for her, putting her mind at ease that she was about to head into King's County. Michonne bent down and saw that the front wheel was coated in mud. "Some sticks and cloth should get us out," she said, standing back up and wiping her hands. "Is there a towel back there as well?"

"Hold on, eww," Christie whined. Michonne rolled her eyes.

"I'm going to find some sticks or pieces of wood." Even though it was late July the air was actually getting chillier. She walked back to her side and pulled out a cardigan. Her phone dropped from her purse onto the floor. Picking it up, she viewed the messages that Mike left.

CALL ME!

MICH, CALL ME NOW!

Michonne grew alarm at the urgency in his texts, seeing that Christie was busy cleaning her shoes. Michonne began walking towards a wooded area, looking for sticks, and dialing Mike. She felt guilty backing out of their date, especially after he proposed that morning, but she needed answers before she could move forward with her life. What hurt her the most though was leaving Andre behind, she almost took him with her, making Christie stop by the daycare for a few minutes.

"Michonne, where are you?" Mike picked up after the second ring, he sounded sleepy, yawning into the phone. His blasé tone didn't match the text messages which immediately annoyed Michonne.

"Is everything all right with Andre?" She picked up two twigs then dropped them to continue her search for thicker sticks.

"Andre is fine," Michonne could hear a game playing in the background.

"How about not using all caps when it's not an emergency," she suggested, trying to hide her irritation. She looked back around and saw a couple of cars driving by, none of them bother to slow down to help the women.

"You were supposed to call an hour ago. I won't apologize for trying to get your attention." Michonne frowned at Mike's manipulative tactic.

"Christie and I are on the side of the road, trying to get out of a ditch."

"Did you call roadside? How far are you? I can come pick you two up. Get Terry to wat—."

"No," she said forcefully. "This is an easy fix, we'll be back on the road in five minutes."

"You still have issues with Terry, why?" Michonne shook her head and saw some sticks that looked to be what she needed.

"I don't. I have to go, I'll call you when we make it to that town," she said picking them up.

"We're supposed to be having dinner and making calls about our engagement, but you're ignoring me." _There it was_ , she thought.

"I'm not…" Michonne stood straight up and turned around. She saw a man standing by their car talking to Christie. There was also an SUV on the side of the road that she assumed to be the guy's. "I'm not ignoring you, but I have to go. I'll call you later, I promise. I love you." Christie looked thrill to be speaking with this person.

"I love you too," Mike said. Michonne ended the call and put her cell back in her jeans pocket.

The man was tall, muscular, and ruggedly handsome. She heard Christie laugh nervously before turning to see her walking back to the car.

"See, I told you my friend is freaking MacGyver, we're good," she said.

"Hi," he waved at Michonne and placed his hand back on his hip. His smile was wide and his teeth were bright white, he looked like he could've modeled for a toothpaste commercial.

"Hi," she replied. She dropped the sticks and Christie handed her a cloth rag.

"Vivica said you didn't need any help?" His voice was deep and had a slight Northeastern accent.

"She's right," Michonne kept herself from blowing Christie's cover.

"Ever thought about getting one of these fuckers," he pointed to his SUV. Michonne's eyes narrowed, his enthusiastic way of speaking as if he was the happiest person on earth was unnerving. The man took notice of Michonne's expression and smiled wider, "Sorry for my fucking language."

Christie burst with laughter and shrugged when her eyes met with Michonne's. "I'm sorry that was funny," she confessed, muffling her giggles with her hand. "We're good. Thank you though," she said to the stranger.

"Women who don't need a man to do the tiniest shit. My kind of women."

"Really? You're not really the kind of man, I'd go for," Christie said in a smoky tone.

Well," Michonne clapped her hands, "it was nice to meet you, but again we're good. The man grinned at Christie and looked as if he was going to say something else.

"Then I'll be on my way, stay safe." Both ladies waved goodbye until the man went back to his SUV and drove off.

"You don't even know him and you're flirting," Michonne chastised.

"He was hot and he spoke like a man with a big dick." Christie shook like she was cold and stared dreamingly in the direction he drove down.

Michonne bent down and placed the sticks inside the cloth and pushed them under the wheel. "Get back in and try driving." Michonne took a step back and waited for Christie, she looked at her watch, _another hour or so and I'll be there._ She knew she had been to King's County before, but couldn't recall the full picture; only bits and pieces. Rick and she were far from lovers at the time, but instead strangers with a common goal. _If he's there, will he even know me?_

Michonne heard the wheel drive over the sticks and watched Christie drive back onto the road. Michonne wiped some mud from her pants and got back into the passenger side.

"Where did you learn that?" Christie asked pulling back on the highway.

"A friend."

"Rick?"

"Yep," she read the sign ahead for King's County which was a lot closer than she originally thought, "Twenty more miles until the exit."

"You sure this time?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Michonne's phone buzzed again, Mike sent another text message.

"What exactly are we going to do when we get there?"

"I'll figure it out."

"I should have gave him my number," Christie whispered.

"You know what we can do?"

"What?" Christie looked over at her with a curious expression.

"Look what I found!" Michonne reached down and pulled out a children's book that was tucked underneath her seat. Christie glanced at it and rolled her eyes. "I'm going to read to you, The Berenstein Bears, _Learn about Strangers_!" Michonne laughed, "Perfect timing."

Christie tried to snatch the book from Michonne's hand, but Michonne leaned away from her, warned the other woman to keep her eyes on the road, and began reading as they continued their drive to King's County.

* * *

Ed Pelieter's murder was bothering Rick. It wasn't so much that his widow, Carol, accused Rick of the act, but instead the murder itself felt too familiar for comfort. Rick sat on the locker room bench, rubbing his eyes, he was tired and wanted to find a dark hole to crawl in and sleep until things were back to how it was—the dead walking and Michonne alive. He focused his mind on what he was doing before he woke up in his old home on Monday. _I was meeting with Paul Monroe about a war against…,_ Rick groaned he knew the name of the man that had been their target. He tried to mentally grasp for it like he was reaching for the remote underneath the couch. _What is his name?_ Frustration mounted as he cracked his knuckles, he sighed and felt for his phone beside him.

He flipped through several missed calls from home and Lori's cell. Rubbing the scab on his chin from his razor incident, he held his thumb over the 'call' button deciding whether or not he was ready to speak with Lori. He then closed his phone and tossed it on top of his uniform, he would prefer speaking to Lori face to face, they needed to have a long talk about their marriage, and if it could be saved. Standing up he put his jeans and boots back on, feeling in his pocket for his car keys.

"Shit," it dawned on him that he would need to walk over to Tyrell's to pick up his car. Rick put his shirt on and dumped shower essentials in his locker. His eyes landed on pictures from his past with two people who probably hated his guts right now. One was of Lori and him at the Chicago Pier. The lines and wrinkles wouldn't set in on their faces for another ten years. That had been a fun mini vacation away from the responsibilities of being new parents. The picture above it showcased an even younger Rick with Shane on the baseball field after they won the championship finals. Rick remember being a bench warmer while Shane was one of the top players on the team.

"Didn't think you'll be in today," Shane spoke from behind. Rick turned to eye Shane standing a foot away, he looked at Rick intensely.

"I was. Now I'm leaving," Rick closed his locker, went over to the bench and grabbed his clothing.

"They talked to me today about the dead guy. Got my ass reamed for not telling the whole truth in the original report."

"And that's my fault?" Rick asked incredulously.

"Don't play with me man." Shane veered a little closer. "You really think I'm messin' around with Lori?" He whispered.

Rick gazed over at Shane, he was expecting to see anger in his eyes, but there was only sadness. Rick shook his head, not knowing what to say to the other man. He didn't have proof, only memories of another time that he had no way of knowing actually happened.

"I need to go," he said quietly.

"You can't ignore me forever. You think getting a promotion and a new partner is the end between us?" Shane asked thickly.

"I haven't gotten any of that," Rick confessed and shrugged, "and I'm not gunning for those things either."

Shane clicked his tongue and shook his head, "I don't know what's going on man. I really don't. I mean, fuck, I'm at a loss for words. We've fought, but this feels different."

"Because things are different. For me at least and until I figure it out, I think its best I keep my distance from you." Shane stared at Rick as if Rick was speaking in another language. Before he can protest, Rick strolled passed him and out of the locker room doors.

* * *

Michonne and Christie finally made it to King's County. She was grateful that they had been able to make it to the town before nightfall, but her stomach was cramping from the lack of food and anxiety. She viewed the different buildings and surrounding scenery, hoping that one of them would spark a memory.

"Stop for a minute," Michonne gently grabbed Christie's arm, the car came to a stop and Michonne let go and twisted a lock of hair around her finger. The building's sign swung in the wind, the place was familiar to her, _King's County Eatery_ , it read. Michonne remember its clean windows and sidewalks were once dirty, broken, and littered when she first came across it. She swallowed and looked over at Christie.

"Do you want to go inside," Christie asked. Michonne could only nod, gathering her thoughts as to what to do next when she got out of the car. Christie made a U-Turn and found the last parking space left in the crowded lot. There was country music blaring from the speakers outside and a couple of people were coming out with drinks in hand. Christie shut off the engine and played with the key, both stayed silent. Michonne tried to work up her nerve to leave the car, chewing on her cheek, she clutched the car door handle and opened it.

"Michonne," she gazed over at Christie who gave her a warm smile. "If he's in there or not, I'm here for you."

"Thank you," Michonne smiled.

Getting out of the car, she closed the car door and heard Christie do the same. The smell of cigarette smoke filled her nostrils, this town didn't have any public smoking laws like they did in Atlanta as a man blew smoke in the ladies' direction. Walking side by side they entered the restaurant.

"We'll just come in for directions," Michonne said meekly. She was getting a sense of déjà vu of being inside this place before and that some of these people may have been walkers she had put down with her sword.

"Directions? I'm sure we can find it within a minute," Christie had her face scrunched up as they walked around the tables to the counter.

Behind it was a woman about Michonne's age, she tucked her short blonde curly hair behind her ear and was quickly cleaning up the counter with a wet towel. "Bobby, is Kenny back there?" She didn't lift her eyes off her cleaning duties.

"No!" A voice yelled back, Michonne could only assume it was Bobby.

"Give him a call and tell him he has five minutes to get here or he's fired," the woman finally looked up and smiled at Michonne and Christie. She had a scar on her upper lip that prevented her mouth from widening. "Wow you ladies look fabulous," she looked them up and down. Michonne didn't think she looked that great, she had changed out of her dress into jeggings and a 'Michael Jackson' t-shirt. Christie on the other hand looked like she picked her outfit straight from out of the pages of _Harper's Bazaar_ with the exception on the rain boots she was sporting.

"Thank you," Christie beamed at the compliment, grinning at Michonne and raising her eyebrows.

"You can sit down at any of the tables, we'll come serve ya."

"No, we didn't come in to eat, we just needed directions," The smell of bacon wafted towards her nose, making her stomach rumble. "Maybe after we get to where we're going," she amended, "but do you know where the King's County police station is?"

"Oh hunny," the woman swung her soiled towel on her shoulder, "you could've kept on driving straight down that road and it would have been the brown building on your left." She pointed west with her hand, "only a three minute drive down there."

"Thank you," Michonne replied. "May I ask you another question?"

"Sure"

"The murder that happened yesterday, did a cop really do it?"

"You're not a reporter are you?"

"No. No, we're lawyers," Michonne pointed between Christie and her, "we think it could be connected to a case we're working on."

"Well, the cop you're talking about is a very good family friend. He would never do anything like that and the last I heard he was cleared up this morning."

"What's his name?" Christie blurted.

"I'm not going to give out his name. I don't know you two," she replied defensively. Christie frowned and mouthed 'okay.' Michonne would object, but she no longer cared when she saw a picture hanging on the wall.

 _Is this what you wanted?_

 _Yeah, I wanted a picture of my mom for Judith to know what she looked like._ The picture on the wall was of a man, a woman, and their son.

"Rick," Michonne whispered and grabbed Christie, "Christie, he's real. He's fucking real," Christie looked at her in confusion and then at the picture on the wall.

"He's so… white."

"Shut it."

"You know Rick?" Michonne's eyes cut to the woman who stared at her suspiciously.

"It's been years ago, knew him back in Atlanta, he stopped this robber from taking my purse." Michonne said to her, looking her in the eye so that the lie wouldn't be noticeable. "Nice man. Just a bit odd that he lives here, hence my surprise." The woman nodded and doors from the back of the kitchen swung wide, a tall lanky man with grease stains all over his pants and shirt came up to the woman.

"Kenny's here. He's drunk," the woman looked curtly at the young man.

"You ladies need any more help?"

"No, thank you again, we'll be back later."

"So the police station?" Christie asked, taking sunglasses out of her purse and putting them on.

Michonne swallowed, her heart was pumping rapidly and her insides rumbled. Rick wasn't a figment of her imagination which meant what they been through could have actually happened. "Yeah, let's go."

* * *

"Rick wait up," Rick groaned at the sound of his boss, Sheriff Jon Watson's voice calling behind him. Rick stopped and turned around with a smile on his face despite internally screaming to be gone from the station.

"Sheriff Watson is everything ok?"

"You're clear. Initial autopsy report puts Ed Peletier's death around midnight. Detective Jones vouches that you were passed out at his place."

"That's great! Thank you." Rick faked his excitement, he was off the hook, but there was still a murderer roaming the streets of their very small town.

"You need to be careful though, we ain't the NYPD. Starting fights with citizens is not what we do here at King's County."

"He was beating his wife," Rick retorted.

"He was a real piece of shit, no doubt. But, I expect you to separate any personal feelings when you're on the job. You know that, Rick. I see Morgan trying to recruit you into detective work, but you're the future Sheriff of King's County; do better."

Rick only nodded, he just wanted to leave, go home, sleep, and face Lori's wrath when he was refresh.

"Take a couple of days off next week, ok son."

"Ok." Sheriff Watson gave Rick a hard pat on the back and turned to leave. Rick shook his head and pinched his nose when he felt a hard bump on his shoulder. He looked up to see Shane walking by him, Shane didn't look at him or offer apologies.

The rational part of Rick's brain felt he had no reason to be angry with Shane and that he was throwing away twenty five and counting years of friendship. Rick sighed and continued on his way out the door, he only took two steps before he was stopped again. It wasn't someone calling for him or being bumped into by an angry friend that was giving him pause. He squinted at the figure only a couple of feet away, he even tilted his head in foolish attempts to see clearer when he didn't need to too. There was no mistaking her for anyone else in town because Michonne was unique.

"We're lawyers from Atlanta," Michonne dug in her purse for her business cards. When they first entered the police station, she quickly scanned all the unfamiliar faces with no luck. _He's not here_ , she thought and went to the front desk to focus on actual work.

"The detective handling the case is gone for the evening and even if he was here, I don't think he's going to give you details about an ongoing investigation."

"I know that," Michonne was growing frustrated that this trip was a bad idea, "I don't need the ins and outs of the investigation, I just need to know if it's similar to two murders that happened in Atlanta, a year ago. I have information that could be useful to your department and—"

"Michonne," Christie was hitting her arm like a child needing to use the bathroom. She glanced at her and saw Christie's wide eyes staring off to the side. Michonne jerked her head down to the desk, her skin prickled on the back on her neck, and she closed her eyes.

" _I thought you would be asleep by now," Michonne said to Rick who was sitting on the couch. She had spent most of the night with Carl, still in his coma, but Denise reassured her that there had been improvements and practically escorted Michonne home. The house was quiet and semi dark, only a candle flickered on the coffee table causing shadows to dance around Rick._

" _I was waiting up for you," Rick was wrapped in a blanket, his hair was skewed all over his head, and he placed a bottle of Jack back on the table. Michonne sighed, she was tired and didn't think she had enough energy in her to pull Rick out of his misery._

" _Rick, go to bed," she moved towards the stairs, taking off her jacket and tossing it on the loveseat._

" _Please, I need to talk to you." She stopped, his pleading voice tugged at her heart, she hated seeing him so pitiful. She turned around and sat on the couch beside him, Rick removed the blanket from around him and sat up._

" _What do you want to talk about?" She looked over at him quizzically, he licked his lips and stared down._

" _Us."_

" _What do you mean?" She very well knew what he meant, he told her that he loved her and Michonne knew that he didn't mean in a friendly, familial kind of way. Her response was to push him away._

" _Michonne, I think there's a future for us," Rick reach out and held her hand. "I know Carl will pull through and when he does, things can't stay the same anymore. I understand now. About living again."_

" _I can't," Michonne interrupted._

" _Listen, I've made so many mistakes since getting to Alexandria, I'm thankful that you even still consider me a friend, but what I'm telling you right now, this isn't a mistake. I love you. I have for a very long time and while I wish my timing was better, I'm not waiting any longer to tell you how I feel."_

 _Michonne shrugged and shook her head, "You're drunk," she smiled but it faltered when she looked in his eyes, they were clear and focused on her._

" _I thought about drowning my woes with this stuff, but I'm tired of being in a haze."_

" _So, what? We get together only for us to be ripped apart eventually. You remember David?" Rick frowned with confusion._

" _David was helping us lure the herd away from ASZ before things went to hell," she explained. "He told me he found love in the midst of all of this and I thought," Michonne took a deep breath and let it out, "I thought that could be me."_

" _It can be."_

" _No, it can't because David died during that mission. I watched him be devoured and when I came back home, his wife was dead too. It's hopeless."_

" _It's not!" Rick said emphatically. "Michonne look at me." She turned to him and he scooted closer to her, and brushed the tears from her eyes. "I have never been surer in my life that we should be together. You and I have been through it all, we've lost so much, but we've survived. We don't die."_

" _Rick, but we will, someday."_

" _You want to start living, hell you've already started despite me sabotaging your efforts. Love is part of that. I came back to life, Michonne, because of you, I'm ready. Aren't you?"_

"Michonne?" She felt his hand gently squeezing her shoulder and his voice that she missed so much spoke softly by her ear. Michonne laid her cheek on top of his hand and rejoiced from the warmth she felt from him.

Rick sucked in a quick breath as he turned Michonne around, he blinked rapidly in amazement. Her lips were parted and she broke into laughter which became infectious because he started laughing as well. But soon her laughter stopped and she shook her head, looking at his much younger face. His face shone no signs of the trauma he had endured for so long, but his eyes were still the same eyes she last remembered looking into before they were separated.

"Hi," he whispered. His breath tickled her nose, he was very real.

"Hi, she whispered back and then wrapped her arms around his waist. Rick pulled her into his chest and breathed in her scent and felt her heartbeat against his. She was very much alive.

Michonne started to cry softly, everything felt right in that moment. It always had since she decided that night that she wanted to experience every facet that life could offer in that world which included love. She moved in his arms so that they once again locked eyes, she watched as he licked her lips. There was only one thing that could make this reunion complete for the both of them, closing her eyes she stood on her tip toes and waited for his lips to touch hers.

"Rick?" The shrill voice of another woman forced Michonne to open her eyes, Rick's warmth left her and he took a step back. She turned to the person that shouted his name and immediately recognized her from the picture in the bar. Michonne's cheeks began to burn, _this was a mistake_ , she thought.

Before her stood Lori, alive and angry.


	8. What Now?

**Chapter Eight: What Now**

"This was a mistake," Michonne whispered.

The arguing coming from outside was loud enough to where the people inside could decipher what was being said. Michonne sat on a bench by the door with Christie, avoiding the curious eyes of strangers who knew she was the cause of the fight. She covered her mouth with her shirt, smelling Rick's cologne on her. Michonne missed his touch already and yet wanted to run back to Atlanta.

"An awkward mistake actually," Christie added.

Michonne pulled out her phone and noticed another missed call from Mike. A lump in the back of her throat swelled up, she didn't think of herself as a cheater, but she was crossing a line.

"We should leave," Michonne put away her phone and stood up. "An hour hadn't pass since we've been here and I'm breaking up a marriage."

She made eye contact with the clerk—that wouldn't provide the detective's name—the woman averted her eyes elsewhere. The police station was beginning to feel stuffy as more employees lingered around, stealing glances at her.

"Stop." Christie put her hand up, "that," she said pointing outside, "is not your fault and you're forgetting about Merle Dixon?"

Michonne hadn't forgotten, but her motivation to win was waning. She sighed, "You should make friends with one of the officers here. We need that guy's info." There were only three of them and none were giving off friendly vibes. A door opened in the back and out walked a tall dark haired man, he had a muscular build and stood out from the rest.

"I'll make friends with that one," Christie said, her eyes locked on the same guy. He stalked towards them only giving them an onceover and glared at the door.

Michonne frowned, seeing the agitation on his face. "Maybe you shouldn't…"

Christie stepped out in front of him and dropped her purse. Lipstick, phone, wallet and other contents spilled out and some rolled toward the man's feet. Christie bent over to pick up her mess. Michonne watched as the man's face went from irritation to curiosity while he gazed at her ass.

"Let me help ya," he had a strong southern twang, bending down to help Christie.

"Thank you."

"Never seen you around here."

"That's because I'm not from here," Christie smiled and he smiled back. With her things back in her purse, they stood up.

"Wait, you dropped this as well," he bent down again to pick up a card. Christie looked over at Michonne, her grin widening. "Christie Chamberlain," he said reading the card.

She held out her hand, "My friends call me 'CC'."

 _She is such a liar_ , Michonne thought.

The man licked his lips and chuckled, "Shane. Shane Walsh."

LORI!

Rick's voice boomed from outside. Michonne's eyebrows furrowed as her and Christie shared a worrying glance at each other. Putting space between herself and Rick's very angry wife was the top priority now.

No longer having his attention held by Christie, Shane's expression grew dark and he unceremoniously handed Christie her card and walked out the door.

"I think I might have to pretend I don't know you," Christie said rolling her eyes at the door.

* * *

"Jesus. You can't even look me in the eye and tell me the truth," Lori rolled up the sleeves of her flannel shirt. When Rick did look up, her eyes were red and hard.

"If you would let me speak," he pleaded.

There were people on the opposite side of the street stopping to watch the scene.

"Now you want to speak?" She snorted, her face flushed, Lori moved her sweaty hair from out of the way and wiped the tears from her eyes. Rick reached out to her for the umpteenth time only for her to pull away again.

Rick's jaw clenched, "I told you the other day that I was living in a world where you were dead and—"

"No. No," she interrupted. "I want the truth. Not a story."

"The truth?" Rick released a heavy sigh, Lori didn't want to hear the truth, so he thought reasoning with her would work. "Have you ever seen Michonne in town before? Better yet please enlightened me on how I would've found the time to cheat on you Lori?"

"You're always working 'late' and the fact that I've never seen this woman before doesn't mean you didn't cheat. I should be thankful that you didn't sleep with someone I know?"

"Shane can back me up," Rick counter quickly and just as quickly having regret for bringing him up.

"The same Shane you punched because you thought he was sleeping with me. Yeah I would love to see him cover for you after you treated both of us," she scoffed.

From the corner of his eye Rick saw Shane approaching, he glanced at Lori who was looking the other way from both of them, chewing on her thumbnail.

"Lori and I are going home," Rick declared before Shane could even open his mouth.

"I'm going home," she corrected Rick, pointing a finger at herself and then to Rick, "you, don't come home."

"Lori," Shane interjected. Rick curbed his urge to tell Shane to stay out of it. "This is Rick, we're talking about. I'm the dog, not him. He would never hurt you like that."

Shane was able to do what Rick couldn't by giving Lori a comforting touch on the shoulder that she didn't flinch from. She stopped chewing her nail, folded her arms, and she nodded slowly while glaring daggers into Rick.

"Shane still defending his best friend even though you treat him like shit," Lori spat.

"Hey, hey," Shane stood in between them and held Lori by the shoulder. Irritation seeped through Rick, but Michonne's voice caught his attention. Jerking his head in that direction he saw Michonne walking out the station. It was disjointing to see her not have her katana securely on her back and looking out for potential threats. Michonne's head was down and she was making quick long strides away from him. He looked at Shane comforting Lori, _this is for the best_ , he thought.

"Michonne," he called out to her, but she didn't stop. So he opened his mouth to call out to her again when a woman behind her turned around to face him.

"Hey," she harshly whispered to him. "Stupid move leaving wifey behind to chase after another woman." Rick narrowed his eyes toward the girl who looked amused, she didn't wait for him to speak back before shoving paper in his shirt pocket. She looked up at him, peering at him in a way that made him uncomfortable. "I don't get it," she said sighing and then walked away to Michonne waiting by the car. Michonne's back was still to him, but by the other woman's animated expression it appeared they were having a colorful argument.

Rick wanted to force Michonne to talk to him, but he felt eyes digging into his back. Leaving now would only incur more wrath from Lori, _get your shit together Rick_.

* * *

Michonne closed her laptop and sat back in the chair, twirling her engagement ring around her finger again. Her conversation with Mike felt more like she was on the witness stand. He wanted to know where she was, how she was doing, how long she'll be gone, who she spoke to, etcetera. She sensed that Mike knew she wasn't giving him the complete story and that whatever she was hiding was affecting their relationship. Michonne pouted as she thought that it could just be her guilty conscience calling out to her.

A soft knock could be heard on her motel room's door, standing up Michonne rolled her neck, loosening the tense muscles. She checked her watch, it'd been only ten or so minutes since Christie had left to buy food.

"Michonne? It's me."

Michonne stopped, her mouth opened agape, it wasn't Christie at the door. Commanding her brain to move, she took one step, then another, and another until she reached the door. She peered through the peep hole and saw Rick standing outside. He was looking at the ground, his hands in his pockets. He seemed well-rested, his face was fuller and younger, and she noticed that his arms while toned, lost some of the muscle he had built up from years of surviving a harsh world. Rick was still handsome as ever though, his appearance making her stomach quivered with nerves.

Michonne placed her hand on the knob and was about to open the door when the sparkling glint of her engagement ring caught her eye and made her stop. Her jaw tighten, only moments ago she told Mike she loved him and here she was getting excited to see Rick again.

"Give me a minute," she called out to him. She turned and walked to the nightstand by her bed. Opening it, the drawer only contained a Holy Bible and several unopened condom packets. Disgusted, Michonne used the bible to push the condoms to the back of the drawer. She then took another look at her ring, she should feel proud to wear such a beautiful item that she personally picked out when she found our she was pregnant with Andre, but when she looked at her ring, her face grew warm and the guilt began to creep its way to her heart. Michonne took off her ring and placed it in the drawer, closing it with a hard shove.

Michonne went back to the door, opening it she took a deep breath.

"Hi," he said, his bright blue eyes twinkling.

"Hi," she grinned widely.

Michonne opened the door wider and gestured for him to come in, she couldn't stop herself from grinning when he lightly touched her hand. Closing the door behind him, she took another deep breath and let it out.

"Michonne."

"Yes Rick?" She turned to him and nearly bumped heads, he reached out and grasped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. Rick's eyes hadn't changed, they still held the memory of what had happened to them and that made Michonne grateful that after a week of being lost, she finally had someone who knew what she was going through.

"I missed you," he whispered, lifting Michonne's face to his and leaning in closer to her. He captured her voluptuous lips into his mouth while Michonne held onto his forearms. She kissed him back hesitantly, reacquainting herself with the taste of him. Their kissed deepen as one of Rick's hands moved from Michonne's face and traveled down to her waist and the other clung to the back of her head, forcing her body closer to his.

There was fire in both their bellies that was growing stronger, a hunger to reunite in more intimate ways, but Michonne's need for answers grew as well until it forced her to move back from Rick, breaking the kiss.

"How?" She asked, taking a moment to catch her breath she sat on the bed, her lips tingled from the friction. "How did we get here? I don't understand what happened."

Rick shook his head, he didn't have any answers. He too wondered the same thing since Monday morning.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Monday, I woke up thinking I was still in Alexandria. That I was still in bed with you," he frowned, biting his lower lip.

"I woke up in the middle of a courtroom," Michonne crossed her arms and sat down on the bed. "That whole day was just…"

"A mindfuck," Rick said. "You are the only person I can remember."

"Same. And Carl. I remember Carl."

Rick sat down beside her and held her hand, "your hands are super soft," he rubbed his thumb up and down the middle of her palm.

Michonne smiled, "What are you trying to say?"

"No, no. I don't mean anything by it."

"I haven't spent two years handling a sword all day." Rick nodded, "You know, I thought finding you would be an end to the confusion, but I'm even more confused," Michonne confessed. "This afternoon, I thought it would be like the movies. We see each other again and the world goes back to how it was."

"Either it's a lot more to it than a simple hug or we're suffering from some kind of psychosis."

"Do you think we're the only ones?" Rick gazed at her as she gently bit her lip.

"Maybe. I see faces with no names or I remember names, but can't put a face to them."

Michonne nodded, "the other day, I think I recognized someone from before."

"Did you talk to them?" Rick inquired.

"No, he was on tv. Tyreese? Tyreese… something."

"What do you remember about him?"

"I gave him advice to not be stupid. I don't remember much else." Michonne paused and sighed, "What do we do now?"

"Move on and hope that what we're experiencing was a shared dream."

Michonne lowered her head, there was still a heaviness in her heart that something was still wrong.

"You think what happened wasn't real?" Rick asked.

Michonne rubbed her wounded hand which served as a reminder that yesterday she believed the nightmarish dreams to be all too real. "I hope it wasn't. All the pain and the people we thought we lost. I don't remember everything, but what I do remember, I really hope it wasn't real," she got up and search through her purse for the Vicodin. Michonne struggle with the pill bottle again until Rick took it out of her hand.

"I cut my hand with glass," she knew Rick wanted to ask. He kneeled down and handed her two tablets which she promptly swallowed. She watched him investigate her hand, gently moving it around and touching the bandaged cut.

The similarity of Rick's gentle care and Mike's that morning made her chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Michonne felt Rick's hair, his loose curls were now tight due to his haircut. Rick needed to know about Mike, but for now Michonne wanted to enjoy this moment.

His attentiveness to her hand brought forth another memory of her nursing a gunshot wound when they first met.

Rick felt a light slap across his head, he looked up alarm and confused as to what he could have done to warrant the slap. Michonne didn't look upset.

"What was that for?"

"Do you remember when we first met?"

"No," he lied.

"You were a dick, Rick."

"Well you forgave me, did you not?" He asked cheekily.

"That was then. This is now."

Rick made steady eye contact with her, he watch as her expression soften and her pupils enlarged. He leaned forward, his face inches from hers.

Rick smiled, "What can I do to make it up to you?"

Michonne laid her hand over heart and released an appreciative sigh. _This night would be perfect if we didn't have baggage to deal with._

"What?"

"I ruined your marriage," she exasperated, blowing raspberries, and putting her head in her hands.

"No, you didn't ruin anything," he pulled her up into a hug. "Lori and I were done a long time ago," Rick surprised himself with how easy that was to say.

"You're lying."

"About?"

"About it having nothing to do with me," Michonne moved so that she can look Rick in the eye, "Rick—"

"You're not the problem," he playfully growled. "You're my future."

 _It's your turn to be truthful,_ she thought. If she told Rick about Mike, maybe it'll make him more hesitant to move on from his wife so quickly.

"We need to figure some things out first."

Rick only nodded, letting her go and sitting on the bed. He felt a buzzing against his thigh, lifting up his leg, he pulled out a cell phone, the screen blink brightly and it displayed the picture of the woman who gave him her number.

"Your friend," Rick held out the phone to Michonne.

Rick laid back, half-listening to Michonne's conversation and contemplating whether he should go home for the night. He hadn't seen Carl since the lake incident. _Carl_ , Rick wondered how Carl would take him and Lori breaking up. Would he be understanding or angry and how will he take Rick moving on with Michonne?

"Rick?"

He opened his eyes to see Michonne standing over him, she tossed her phone on the bed beside him.

"My friend, Christie will be here in a few."

"You want me to leave," he asked sitting up.

"No, you don't have to if you don't want. She has her own room next door," she grinned "but I came here to work."

"Are you saying finding me was just dumb luck?" He asked pouting.

"Hmm," Michonne put her finger to her lips and looked to be in deep thought, "yeah it was dumb luck." She laid on the bed and Rick laid back down next to her.

Michonne studied the paint cracks on the ceiling and the dust bunnies covering the upper walls.

"Am I the icing on the cake?" He asked.

Michonne laughed and looked over at him, he too was staring up at the ceiling, she watched his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed and licked his lips. She wanted to kiss him again, but kissing would only lead to going down a path she wasn't ready to take or sure she could take.

"Yes. On one of those diet cakes being falsely advertised as delicious."

"Why are you _really_ here then?"

"My client is on trial for a murder and I believe there is a lead here to the real killer."

"Ed Peletier's murder?

"Mmhmm, I just need reasonable doubt to at least hang the jury."

"I can help. I know the detective on the case, he'll help you."

"Thank you."

Rick propped himself on his side and grabbed Michonne by her waist, pulling her into another kiss. She held onto the back of his head as their tongues wrestle each other for dominance. Rick grunted, not caring that his lungs were on fire. He moved on top of her, his growing erection pressing into her stomach. The sexual desire she so desperately wanted to conjure up that morning with Mike was spilling out of her in this moment. And just as quickly as things began to heat up between them, Rick broke the kiss. Breathing heavily, he got off of her and laid back down.

"I should go," he wanted to stay, there were so much they needed to discuss. Michonne nodded her head, stretched her hands upward and got up.

Walking to the door, Rick opened it and stopped in the doorway. Michonne wasn't ready for him to go, she didn't want to wake up the next morning and have this whole day be another dream. "Tomorrow?" she asked.

"Around 10, I'll pick you up?"

Michonne gave Rick a small smile that he returned. He reached up and caress her cheek and then cupped her chin bringing her eyes to meet his.

 _She's real and more beautiful than ever_.

"See you then," she said. Rick gave her one last kiss before getting back to his car, leaving Michonne hopeful that their baggage could work itself out.

* * *

The sun that Saturday afternoon was unbearable. There wasn't much shade where they were standing, Michonne swatted at the back of her neck, hoping it wasn't another mosquito that was bothering her. Rick knocked on the door of Morgan's home for the second time and then a third, each knock becoming more forceful. Michonne observed his irritation, she smile in amusement remembering when he had to help inept Alexandrians prepare themselves against walkers. _His short temper hasn't been forgotten._ Rick was about to knock for the fourth time when the door opened and stood before him was Morgan.

"You lied to me!" Rick snarled. Alarmed, Michonne grabbed his arm before he could further approach the other man.

"I'm sorry, give us a minute," she told him. Michonne escorted Rick away from the door, but couldn't help but look back. There was a familiarity she felt when she laid eyes on Morgan. "What was that?" she asked Rick.

Rick rubbed his temples and shook his head. "He told me you died," he said quietly. "I asked him to find you and he told me you had died in a car accident."

Michonne swallowed hard, _he tried looking for me while I tried to forget._ "Look at me, why would he lie? I don't know him, so why would he need to lie, it was a mistake." She took ahold of Rick's hands and gave it a squeeze. "We're back in a world where you can't get away with using your fists over your words."

"You're right," he resigned. "You're always right."

"That much is true," she smirked feeling relived to see Rick relax. Walking back to Morgan, Michonne noticed the man looking at them curiously which only made her more conscious of the fact that her and Rick were holding hands.

"Morgan, this is Michonne. She ended up finding me, imagine that," Rick said, the sarcasm dripping.

Morgan warily gazed at Rick and nodded. Rick watched Morgan closely, he wanted to know if Morgan was surprise that he was caught or surprise that he was wrong.

"Hi," Morgan smiled at Michonne, "come in.

"Where's Jenny?" Rick asked. Morgan closed the door behind them and pointed them to the living area. Michonne looked around the newly moved in space that had yet to be fully furnished and decorated. _This is nice digs for a small town detective._

"Her and my boy are out shopping. Imma be a poor man by the time they're done," he said laughing.

Michonne smiled, but Rick still looked pissed. They sat down on the single sofa that was in the room, while Morgan disappeared to the next one. Michonne opened up her briefcase and placed the files she had about Sherry and Dwight murders on the little coffee table. Rick leaned over and picked up one of the folders, flipping through the papers he let out a big sigh.

"The photos are intense," Michonne stated, she could tell Rick was thinking the same thing as his eyes scanned over each page.

"No wonder you came down here, the way this person was found is how I saw Ed's corpse."

Michonne leaned back and rested her head on Rick's shoulder, her eyes glazed over not wanting to see the gruesome photos a second time.

"Do these murders seem familiar to you?" She wanted to know if Rick was having the same reaction she had the other night. Would those photos transport him back to being in the middle of a dark road, helpless while one of their own is being beaten to death?

"When I saw Ed's body lying on the floor, I got that déjà vu feeling. Are you thinking that whoever committed these murders, we knew them?"

"I hope not."

"We're all out of sweet tea," Morgan spoke from behind them, making Rick jump a little. Morgan carried a chair with him and sat it on the opposite side of Rick and Michonne. "I can get ya'll some water or coffee."

"That's all right," Michonne declined. "Thank you."

"Do you still have the obituary?" Michonne looked back and forth between Rick and Morgan, she should have known Rick wasn't going to drop it. Morgan looked confused at first, but then his eyes lit up.

"I threw it away." Rick coughed and shifted in his seat, "by accident of course," Morgan added. "Rick, this beautiful woman sitting beside you was not the same one on the obituary I found. Two different women, I apologize for the mistake, should have done more research."

There was a brief moment of silence while everyone in the room decided who would speak next. Michonne looked over to Rick who seemed agitated, she felt immense sympathy for the emotional rollercoaster that Rick had been on this week.

"How about we start over," Michonne scooted forward and held out her hand. "My name is Michonne Cassel, I'm a defense attorney in Atlanta." Morgan took her hand and shook it firmly. She gave him her business card from out of her briefcase, he looked over it briefly and nodded.

"An attorney?"

"I'm currently in the middle of a murder trial. My client is accused of murdering these two individuals," she said placing two photos of Sherry and Dwight on the table in front of Morgan. "I don't believe he's guilty based on a number of reasons, but a murder that is very similar to the murders of Dwight and Sherry occurred in your town is damning evidence that could get the entire case dismissed."

"The investigation just begun, how can you be so sure?"

"The details of this murder is getting out, it's going to be in the AJC Monday morning."

"How?" Morgan's voice rose a notch and Rick was taken aback that his town was about to be known all over Georgia.

"Our source working there was the one to tell us about the crime."

"Well there's not much that can be written."

"True, but people might panic knowing a killer is making his rounds across Georgia?

Morgan shook his head, "I'm sorry Ms. Cassel. I don't believe we have a serial killer. The two crimes are almost a year apart," he said, "Actually, this murder trial could have inspired a copycat situation. "

"Look at these photos," Michonne grabbed the photos Rick had and placed them on the table. Morgan bent over to get a closer look, she watch him grimaced seeing Dwight's headless body. "Rick already told me what you see in the photos is what was seen yesterday." Michonne rolled her eyes as Morgan flipped through the pictures, she didn't understand why he was being difficult.

"The evidence from Michonne's trial can help you catch this guy. You're one step closer to finding your man and she can set an innocent man free. Win-win," Rick added.

Morgan sat back in his seat and stared off in the distance. Michonne and Rick shared a quick glance at each other.

"Imma need time to think about this, giving an out of town lawyer evidence of my case can jeopardize the future trial of the real killer."

Michonne excitedly rubbed her hands together, "whatever evidence you give me will be brought forth to the judge. I'll try to keep it out of the press."

"Like I said, I'll have to think about it. Give me a couple of hours and I'll call you Rick." Rick nodded and helped Michonne gather her papers. Morgan stood up and waited by the door. Rick watch Michonne hum to herself, she looked elated.

"He didn't say yes, yet," he whispered, gently bumping her.

"But, he will!" Michonne kissed Rick quickly and closed her briefcase. She walked up to Morgan and held out her hand. Morgan gave it a firm shake.

"I hope to see you again," she said.

"Likewise."

Morgan left his hand out for Rick to shake as well, but Rick didn't really care for the pleasantries. He looked to make sure Michonne was out of earshot and stared down Morgan.

"We need to talk," he said.

"Rick, I—"

"Later, we'll talk later," Rick left to join Michonne outside. He didn't buy that Morgan was mistaken about Michonne, if anything Rick had a gut feeling Morgan knew exactly what happened to them.

* * *

"Hey now!" Rick shielded his plate from Michonne's fork as she tried to steal another piece of okra. Michonne sat back dejected, "you said you didn't want the okra because you doubt we knew how to cook it right." Michonne rolled her eyes and then grinned. They were having a late lunch at _King County's Eatery_ , after leaving Morgan's house, Rick drove Michonne all around, showing her his favorite spots around town until she begged for them to get something to eat.

"One more, please," she pleaded.

"No."

"We're not friends anymore," she laughed. Her phone vibrated, she looked to see that Christie sent her a text.

 _Not coming. I'm okay, see ya later._

Michonne frowned, she didn't know what Christie was up to this whole day. She had assume the other woman would be holed up at the motel, bored out of her mind and begging Michonne to cut the trip short.

"Good thing we didn't wait for her, she's not coming?"

"You're ok?" Rick asked.

"I'm good. I'll be even better if you let me have your okra," Michonne grinned. Rick shrugged and handed Michonne his bowl of okra which she excitedly accepted. He sat back and watched as she covered the okra with hot sauce and gleefully ate them one by one.

He looked over to his side and saw June staring at him. He gave her a wave, but she didn't return it. June shook her head, threw her dirty towel over her shoulder and went back into the kitchen. Rick frowned as his eyes darted to the picture of him, Lori, and Carl on the wall.

 _Shit._

By now, people he knew would've heard of the public fight he and Lori had. Rick only hoped that Carl was still in the dark. He looked back to Michonne and met her eyes.

"I think that lady doesn't appreciate me taking your food," Michonne joked.

"I should have known better than to bring you here, Mich—."

"I'm not your dirty secret, Rick. It's okay, the food here is so damn good. And anyway, the stares won't bother me for much longer, as soon as Morgan gives me the information I need, Christie and I are heading home."

Rick eyes widen, sitting straight up, he leaned across the table and grabbed Michonne's hand. "Wait, no, you just got here."

Michonne shook her head and swallowed, "I know, but my trial resumes Tuesday. I have to prepare and I have other responsibilities." Michonne thought of Andre, she wanted to see her baby again as soon as possible.

"One more day? You still haven't seen Carl and I want to show you more thangs around town. Please?"

Michonne averted her eyes away from him, she felt herself tearing up at his passionate plea. She did want to see Carl again, she missed the little boy that became her son.

"One more day," she said making Rick grinned. "But, then I head back to Atlanta."

"I'll come with you to Atlanta."

"No!" Michonne exclaimed, Rick coming to Atlanta with her was the last thing she wanted right now, but her expression soften when she saw the hurt on Rick's face. "It won't be just you. I know you Rick, you're going to want to take Carl with you and I don't think Lori is going to let that happen," she said softly.

"I won't bring Carl with me. Michonne, I'm not asking to move in with you, just a couple of days where it's just you and me," Rick didn't understand where Michonne's sudden reluctance was coming from. Her reaction to his proposal wasn't what he expected in his head.

"It won't just be you and me," Michonne sighed. She couldn't withhold certain details about her life in Atlanta from Rick; he deserved to know.

"What do you mean?"

Michonne looked up from her okra which didn't seem so delicious anymore. There was concern written all over Rick's face, she didn't want to let him down.

"My son is still alive," she was tired of crying, but her feelings couldn't stop more tears from falling down her face.

"Andre? That's great… right?" Rick tried to think as to why Michonne's baby still being alive and well would keep him from coming to Atlanta with her. Michonne used a napkin to dab at her face.

"Mike is too."

Rick remained silent, he sat back and braced himself for whatever Michonne was about to tell him because he knew he wasn't going to like it.

"I'm engaged, Rick. Mike proposed to me and I said yes."

 **Author's Note: Hey my fellow Richonners, if you haven't heard, there is a new forum that is very very Richonne friendly. Go to tellittothedeadDOTcom, join us as we celebrate chop-chop day, squeal over our favorite duo, and relax in a safe space where you can speak your mind :)**


	9. Wreckless Love

**Chapter Nine: Wreckless Love**

" _Can I ask you a question?" Rick and Michonne had the house to themselves for the night. Michonne kept her eyes glued on Kevin McCallister setting his house with booby traps in 'Home Alone.' She reached over to the popcorn still sitting between them and grabbed a handful, eating them one by one._

 _Rick assumed she didn't hear him, "Michonne?"_

" _Hmm?" Her eyes darted to him and then back to the movie. She laughed when one of the robbers touched the burning door knob and then looked over and saw Rick waiting for her full attention._

" _Your necklace? Is there a story behind it?" Rick had been seeing her twiddle with her necklace often after Carl's shooting. She would be lost in thought, pulling at the chain or touching the 'M' to her lips like a rosary._

 _Michonne reached for the remote and a water bottle on the coffee table and pressed pause on the TV. She played with the bottle's top; twisting it open and close. She suddenly felt very tired and nervous._

" _It was a gift," she finally said after more than a moments pause. Michonne touched her necklace, moving the 'M' back and forth on the chain. Rick watched as her eyes grew distant._

" _I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, embarrass that his attempt to get to know Michonne failed. Embarrass that she may think his intentions were selfish. "I'm sorry," he said again._

" _Mike," she said softly. "It stands for Michonne and Mike. He was my boyfriend."_

" _Oh." Rick felt disappointment; is this why she pulled away?_

 _He decided not to ask more questions. Michonne would disclose her past some day or not at all and Rick knew he needed to be okay with that. She stopped fiddling with the necklace, dropping her hands in her lap and clenched them together._

" _Michonne?" He moved the bowl of popcorn to the table and gently pulled her to him, enclosing her into a side hug. "I'm really sorry if I made you remember something bad."_

" _No. I was actually thinking about the good and the bad," she said. Michonne unclenched and clenched her hands into a fist over and over. "It wasn't always rainbows and sunshine, but Mike… I loved him."_

 _Rick thoughts turned to Lori; he loved her too, so much so that he tried to find her in someone else. But, their marriage wasn't a fairytale, he wasn't the perfect husband and she wasn't the perfect wife. He felt Michonne take a breath and let it out._

 _She broke the hug and scooted her back to the couch. "He was also the father of my child, the necklace was a token of love to our son." Michonne reached up and touched her necklace again, Rick gave her a reassuring smile, he too use to keep a reminder of what he and Lori had. That reminder was now gone only leaving behind a tan line on his ring finger._

" _Then it just became a reminder that I should hate that man and myself," she continued. Michonne sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes, sighing she closed them for a moment. Rick was taken aback, he felt she had no reason to hate herself._

" _I don't feel that way anymore," she said looking at him as if she read his thoughts. "I can take it off anytime. I'm fine."_

" _You don't have to take it off," he reached over to her and gave her hand a squeeze. "You shouldn't."_

 _Michonne grinned, "I use to think that Mike and I had that one of a kind type of love, but…"_

" _But what?"_

" _I met you."_

 _He and Michonne stared at each other for a silent moment until Michonne removed her hand and stood up. Rick tried not to grin from her words. He picked at the carpet lint on the floor trying to think of what to say next, but all he could do was think about what he wanted to do._

" _Rick."_

 _Looking up, he eyed Michonne standing above him and before he could say anything, she removed her top. Rick swallowed and without thinking he grabbed onto her jean-cladded thighs while she kneeled down on top of him. He wasn't quite sure what he should do first, but he didn't need to think for long. Michonne took the initiative and kissed him, his hands traveled up her back and grabbed onto the back of her head, tentatively sticking his tongue in her mouth that she gladly accepted, following his lead with her own._

 _He felt himself grow as she moaned and began slowly gyrating onto him. Rick massaged the back of her neck, breaking the kiss and moving his lips to her neck. It didn't take long for him to notice that the necklace was no longer there._

* * *

"Dad."

Rick felt hard pokes against his shoulder, he groaned against the pillow and tried to move onto his other side. That was when he realize he was on the couch and not in his bed.

"Dad!"

"What," Rick answered groggily. The curtains were all open in the living room so he kept his eyes close.

"Mom and I are leaving." Those words caused Rick to immediately open his eyes and sit up, he wiped the sleep from them and looked over at Carl.

"What? Where?" Rick swallowed repeatedly, trying to build up saliva for his dry mouth. His back was aching and being awaken so suddenly formed a headache.

"Mom didn't say." Carl wore a blue polo with shorts and only carrying with him another comic book.

Rick stood up and pointed upstairs, "She up there?"

Carl nodded and sat on the couch, putting his nose in his comic. Rick stretched, trying to get out the kinks in his back and climbed up the stairs. Entering their bedroom, he saw Lucy on the bed; she perked her head up then laid it back down. Rick could see the bathroom door was closed and the faucet running, he snapped his fingers at Lucy to get her attention.

"Get down. You know better." The dog only stirred, but didn't move from her spot. Rick frowned, walking to the bed, he moved Lucy himself and gave her a massage to show he wasn't mad just as Lori walked out of the bedroom.

"Lucy was on the bed again," he said turning to see her placing cosmetics in a bag. Her usual straight hair was pulled up loosely in a French twist. Wearing black skinny jeans with a blouse and black blazer, Lori only nodded and went back to the closet grabbing her flats.

Rick stood up and sat on the bed. Where are you and Carl going?" Lori didn't answer, with her flats on she went to the drawer and search through her jewelry box. Rick stared at the back of Lori's head, he knew she was giving him the silent treatment.

"Listen. I don't want to argue. I just want to know where you're taking Carl."

Lori put her earrings on and faced him, she looked like she wanted to spit venom on Rick's face. "Carl has his honor roll breakfast today," she viewed the puzzled expression on Rick's face. "Of course you forgot."

"Well, I can get dress." His ears burned, how could he forget, how was he supposed to know?

"I rather you not come," she said grabbing her car keys. "And he's going to stay with my parents for a week."

"Carl has nothing to do with this," Rick stood up, his voice raising an octave.

"Which is why he won't be here. You want him to hear us fighting."

"We don't have to fight."

Lori rolled her eyes, "what's the saying, 'if you want something you'll fight for it.'"

Rick absorbed Lori's words; he did fight for her once, but that fight was over. When he didn't say anything further, Lori sighed and walked out the room, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Lucy got up and sniffed at the door, she whined for a moment and then walked around Rick, hopping back on the bed.

"Am I in the dog house with you too?" He asked facetiously, Lucy laid her head down and closed her eyes, "I guess I am."

Leaving the room, Rick could hear Lori instructing Carl to pick up behind himself. He walked downstairs and saw Carl waiting by the door.

"Hey buddy," Rick walked over to Carl and gave him a hug, "I forgot about the breakfast at your school and—"

"That's ok dad."

Rick observed Carl's expression, the young boy seemed unfazed by the news, "I'll be there, just a few minutes late."

Carl patted Rick on the shoulder in a way that made Rick feel like he was the child and Carl was the parent. "Dad it's ok. You had a rough week, rest."

Rick shook his head, the level of maturity Carl was displaying amazed him. Rick could see the Carl that was left behind in the other world in the one that was standing before him.

"I'll see you soon then."

Lori came into the living room and handed Carl his book-bag. "I'll be back tomorrow. I want to spend some time with my parents," she said to Rick. Carl opened up the door and ran to the car, Lori took a step out and turned to Rick.

"Is that woman still in town?" Her eyes narrowed, a humid breeze crossed between them making some of Lori's strands fall into her face. She hastily smoothed them back in place.

Rick stared blankly at Lori and shook his head, "No." She looked at him for a few seconds, there was something on the tip of her tongue that she wanted to say, but instead she smiled tensely before closing the door behind her.

Rick took a glimpse out the window and watched Lori pull out of the driveway. He then reached into his back pocket for his cellphone and searched through the list of names until he got the one he needed. The phone rang three times before the person on the other end picked up.

"We need to talk," Rick said.

* * *

Freshly showered and dressed, Rick tried his hand at cooking breakfast, but the results were pitiful. As he sat down to eat his soggy pancakes and burnt sausage, the doorbell rang. Without hesitation he grabbed his colt that sat beside him and went to the front door. Rick looked through the peephole to see Morgan standing at the door reaching to ring the bell again. Rick eyes glazed over to the gun he was holding and he shook his head at his hyper vigilance. Tucking the colt in his waistband and making sure his shirt covered it, Rick opened the door.

"Come in," Rick tried to make his voice friendly. It had almost been a full day since he last spoke with the other man; the rage Rick felt had lessen considerably, but he was still wary.

This was the most casual Rick had seen Morgan look; wearing a white polo shirt with cargo pants and sandals, Morgan took off his schoolboy cap. Rick found it curious that Morgan didn't seemed unaffected by Rick's brash behavior towards him yesterday.

"I know I'm early," Morgan said, twisting his cap in his hand.

Rick looked at his watch, "almost two hours early."

"My wife wants to have me all to herself before I dive into the Peletier case."

"I understand."

"I can't stay for long."

"That's fine. I thought we could talk about a couple of thangs."

"Rick, again. I didn't know," he said solemnly.

Rick's jaw clenched and he gestured for Morgan to take a seat. "I don't want to talk about that. You say it was a mistake then it was."

Rick actually wanted to take a different approach to getting Morgan to spill what he knew about him and Michonne.

"I'm the one who needs to come clean to you. When we met at the hospital, I didn't know who you were. I still don't."

Morgan laughed, "You were pretending to know me?"

Rick cringed, "yeah," he confessed.

Morgan sat his hat down beside him and scratched his head, "you had me fooled then Rick."

"We were childhood friends, right?"

"Sort of. I was more the older kid that stop some bullies from stealing your lunch money. Your guardian angel in a way."

"Humph," Rick smiled, he remember having bullies, but Morgan was still not popping up in his memories.

"I didn't live in town for long though," Morgan continued. "Only a couple of months then we moved."

Rick nodded, "Lambert said the other day that he didn't know you lived here before. I guess that explains why." Rick studied Morgan—looking for signs he was lying—but Morgan was calm.

"Officer Kendal?"

Rick nodded.

"I don't remember Lambert either."

"My guardian angel, huh. I remember those bullies; Kenny and Ted and some others."

"You remember them attacking that treehouse you had in the woods by the lake. Pushing you down, threatening to do more than just beat you; Shane ran the other way."

Rick swallowed, he did remember that day when the neighborhood bullies took their abuse to another level. Rick shifted, he could feel that it was now he who was being observed.

"Yeah, but Shane was there, you weren't."

"Shane ran away," Morgan refuted. "He left you there and now I don't blame him, but still, he left you."

 _How does he know this?_

"Listen," Morgan continued. "You've changed a lot since then, but I'd like to think I know you Rick."

Rick stared intensely at Morgan, "I don't understand, how?"

"It's just a feeling." He said throwing up his hands. "You've saved my life; those boys they came back lookin for me." Morgan softly chuckled, "they found me. Humph. Beat me, called me out of my name. But here you come with a shotgun in hand. You could barely carry that thang, but you held it with confidence. They didn't think you would shoot, but you did."

Rick's eyes soften.

"It was a warning shot and they scurried off." Morgan readjusted himself on the couch, sitting on the edge of it; closing some of the space that was between them. "I want to work with you because you're still the same boy that saved my life that day. That was you. Except you're a man now. But still the same you that's right in front of me right now."

They stared at each other for a while until Rick eyes moved to the pictures on the wall. Shifting careers meant a pay raise, there was no going back to that place where money and bills cease to be any value. If he was going to go through the divorce and make sure Carl's future was still secure, a Sheriff's deputy salary was not going to cut it.

But still he had a nagging feeling his gut that something wasn't right.

"Have you heard of a walker before?" Morgan eyes squinted and shook his head.

"A walker? What is that?"

"Dead people coming back to feed on the living." Rick cheeks grew warm as soon as he explained it he wish he could take it back.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Morgan stood up, grabbing his hat and then walking to the door. "I get it, you don't want the position—."

"I accept." Rick scratched at his face. "I'll be you partner."

Morgan grinned and came back over extending his hand for Rick to shake. "Trust me my friend. Your future is bright."

* * *

Michonne walked down the aisle perusing the different array of toys and games inside _King's County Toys._ She was amused by the fact that most of the mom and pop stores in town were named after the county; she had passed three businesses that sat next to each other—all named King County's insert generic description of store. There wasn't a Toys R Us or mall in sight; the old her would have been annoyed to be in a town with limited options, but her mysterious other life seemed to have change her materialistic whims.

For it being the weekend it wasn't crowded inside the store, Michonne assumed it was because people were in church. She picked up a wooden toy car, the display sign stated it was hand-carved, but the absence of imperfections and the ten identical toys next to it proved that the car was not. She sat it down and walked to the books, thumbing through well-known titles and a few written by unknown authors. Michonne picked out five that she felt Andre would enjoy. Stacking them in her arm, she turned the corner not seeing the boy running towards her until he bumped into her legs.

"Sorry!" He said.

Michonne didn't respond, she gazed at his elfish features, his piercing blue eyes and neatly cut brown hair. He was much shorter and younger and untouched from the horrors of her prior life than the Carl Grimes she called her son. His eyes met with hers and Michonne felt disappointment that they held no sign of recognition.

"Are you ok?" He asked.

Michonne swallowed trying to find words. She never had trouble talking with Carl before, but she didn't know what to say to him or what to share, they were strangers again.

"I'm fine," she said smiling.

"Are you new in town?"

"Just visiting, actually."

"My name is Carl Grimes, he exclaimed all formal. Carl held out his hand, Michonne bent slightly forward and shook it. She tried to keep herself from smiling too widely at how different her first meetings with him were.

"Michonne Calles"

"Do you have a kid?" Michonne looked perplexed for a moment until Carl pointed to the books that were slipping from her arm.

She smiled and readjusted them, "I have a son."

"Where is he?" Carl looked behind her as if Michonne's son was hiding behind her legs.

"He's not with me." Michonne watched as his face fell which made her heart sing. "He's only two going on three. I don't know if you boys would have much to talk about."

Carl sheepishly grinned, Michonne wonder if he was this talkative to other strangers or maybe she _was_ familiar to him.

"Do you read comics to him?" He asked.

"Umm, we haven't graduated to that level. Why? Got any recommendations?"

Carl walked over to a small section of books that were stacked on top of each other. On the bottom of the shelf were comics' carelessly tossed all over. Michonne watch as he flip through them. He finally picked a comic and came back to her.

"You should start with Akira."

Michonne grabbed the comic from him, "Actually, I read Akira in high school. I was bit of a nerd."

Carl made a dramatic gasp, "You read comics?"

"This is actually called a manga. A little different from comics and I used to read them a lot, but then I became an adult."

"Bummer."

Michonne laughed, "Yeah I had to trade my mangas for law books." It was then Michonne noticed the woman from the restaurant, same one that wouldn't stop giving Michonne and Rick looks the other night.

"Carl, where's your mother?" No friendly welcome was given to Michonne instead the woman looked at her with suspicion.

"Next door," he said nonchalantly.

"And your dad?"

"Home."

"Well don't you think you should get over to where your mother is?" Michonne rolled her eyes, she knew the lady's concern for Carl was less than genuine.

"Mom said I can buy something here. I'm fine. Thank you," Carl crossed his arms, not moving from his spot even after the woman huffed.

"I'll go get your mother."

"He said he is fine," Michonne said sharply. The woman glared at her and Michonne glared back.

"Mrs. Tilton. I'm just helping her with her books." Carl reached up to take the books from Michonne's arm. They weren't heavy, but she allowed the kid to help. She watched Carl turn to Mrs. Tilton and looked her in the eye with defiance. The woman lips pursed and her eyes looked Michonne up and down.

"Can I come over and walk Baxter, Mrs. Tilton?" Carl asked with a smile. Michonne couldn't stop herself from smirking, she knew that false smile all too well. It was nice to know that even without the trauma he went through in his other life there were still certain qualities about Carl that remained the same.

Mrs. Tilton only nodded and abruptly left them alone. Michonne eyes followed her as she walked out the door. Michonne wondered if she was on her way to inform Mrs. Grimes what was going on here. Michonne frown, she didn't want any confrontation today, especially not with Rick's wife.

"Hey," she poked Carl on the shoulder. "You really shouldn't be talking to strangers. Give me the books back." She gestured for him to return the items to her which he reluctantly did.

"You seem cool," he argued.

"Thanks, but if I was your mother I would be worry, so head back over next door and let her know you're okay." Carl stared at her long enough to make her second guess whether he too was going through the same confusion as her and Rick, but then he broke into a grin.

"Bye!" He yelled running out the door.

"Bye," she said softly as she discovered another memory.

" _The PT isn't working." Michonne eyebrows furrowed as she watch Carl angrily throw the tennis ball across the room. He turned to Michonne, he was trying to not cry. "A tennis ball is not going to help me against a walker. Or people," he spat._

 _Michonne waited until she was sure he was done with his outburst, retrieving the ball she turned to him. "You just started therapy a month ago. It takes time."_

" _I should be out there shooting."_

" _Baby steps."_

 _Carl put his hands up and rubbed his head, "this is stupid."_

" _Carl?" Michonne reached out to him only for Carl to take a step back. He then tried to walk past her, but she grabbed his arm. "Stop." She let his arm go when he turned to look at her, Michonne felt tremendous empathy for Carl's pain, but the last thing she wanted was to lose him._

" _You think you're a burden on us, but you're not."_

" _I am. I can't help you guys out there. I won't be able to shoot properly. I can't even focus for TWO SECONDS without getting dizzy."_

" _You're not."_

" _I am—"_

" _Carl!" Michonne said sharply. "You've already come back from the worst. You fought for life and won. This is NOT the end. I won't allow you to give up."_

" _But—"_

" _No. You will be able to go back outside. You will be able to shoot again. You will adapt like you've always done because you're strong Carl. Stronger than me, stronger than your dad. You're going to outlive us all. So don't you dare say 'I can't.' You can and you will."_

 _Carl slowly shook his head, "mom," he whispered._

 _Michonne's eyes widen; she hadn't been addressed in that manner since Andre. She shook her thoughts and decided that she misheard Carl._

" _Did you say something?"_

" _I miss my mom."_

 _Michonne nodded her head, understanding the hurt he was experiencing._

" _You're the closes thing I have to my mom," he picked at his bandage. "You… You are my mom."_

 _Michonne sighed, "Carl."_

" _I can have two moms. I can right?"_

 _Michonne stood frozen for a moment, but reach out and pulled Carl into a hug. She felt his arms grip her tighter. She never had any expectations for Carl to call her 'mom,' sometimes she'd hope he wouldn't out of respect for Lori, but she would be a liar if she said hearing him say those words didn't feel right._

" _You can."_

Michonne bought a few more toys she knew she wouldn't be able to find back home, the books, and the Akira manga Carl picked out for her. As she was leaving her cell rang, moving her bags to one hand, she managed to dig the phone out of her purse and answered.

"Hello."

"You haven't run off, have you?"

Michonne grinned and stopped walking. She didn't think she'll ever get tired of hearing Rick's voice.

"Nope. Still here. Shopping actually."

She heard him chuckle on the other end, "my town isn't exactly the shopping mecca."

"Ah come on this town isn't bad. I found some cool things that aren't sold in Atlanta."

"Like?"

"Local books and toys for Andre."

"Michonne?" His tone became serious which made her nervous. "When will I meet him?"

"Soon… hopefully," she wasn't sure how the introduction would go with Andre or what Mike's reaction would be. "Hey—," she started to say until she saw Carl walking out of the store next door following behind him a tall brunette woman, the same one Michonne wanted to avoid. Before Michonne could turn her back to them, she and Lori locked eyes.

"I'm going to have to call you back."

"Michonne—"

Michonne hung up on Rick just as Lori walked closer to her, Carl stopped and walked together alongside her. "Wait in the car," Lori instructed to him.

"Mom," Carl started, but Lori pointed at their car, silently giving him a warning.

Michonne wondered at times what Lori was like, she'd only seen a picture of her and unfortunately Carl and Rick only made brief mentions of her. Despite the limited information, Michonne felt that Lori had to have been a sweet woman and knowing that she died so that Judith could live, Lori had Michonne's respect. Which is why Michonne was becoming uncomfortable with the thought that she was a homewrecker.

"You're Michonne?" Lori's tone was inquisitive, she seemed more curious than angry. Yet, Michonne still braced herself.

"Yes."

Lori moved her hair from out of her face and looked back, Carl did do as he was told, sitting inside the car staring at the two women. She gazed back at Michonne, she watched as Lori looked her up and down and examined her. Physically they were nothing alike.

"I'm Lori Grimes." Michonne put her cellphone in her pocket and held it out, but Lori only folded her arms, "I'm Rick's wife. You know my husband don't you?"

 _Here we go._ Michonne dropped her hand and nodded.

"How?"

"He saved my life." It wasn't a lie, Rick did save her life multiple times. Lori looked perplexed by this info, "I'm a lawyer and I only came here about a case I'm working on. Didn't even know Rick—your husband—lived here."

"And you being all over my husband at the station—what was that about?"

 _I wasn't all over him_. "We hugged because I never got the chance to thank him. Your husband is a hero."

"What did he do?"

"Drunk driver ran us off the road. Flip the car over. Rick pulled us out; my son and me," Michonne said quickly, relaying and adding to the story that Rick said Morgan told him.

Lori's face morphed into concern which took Michonne by surprise, "I'm sorry, you have a son?"

"Yes and a fiancé."

Shame etched on Lori's face, "I'm sorry."

 _I'm the one who should be sorry._ "It's fine. I get it, my fiancé and I have been together for years. Trust, I get it," Michonne rambled.

Lori didn't seem to care. "Rick said you left town already," she said.

"I was. But, I got a lead and wanted to follow up. I'll be going back to Atlanta tonight."

"Will you come back?"

Michonne found the question odd, "No. I have no reason to," she said flatly.

"Look," Lori said folding her arms. "I don't want to sound like a bitch, but I want to be straight forward. I feel in my heart there is more to the story between you and my husband. He's been acting strange this whole week and then you showed up."

"I—"

"Hear me out," Lori cut in. "Please do not come back. You have a family. Don't break up mines."

Any concern Michonne saw from her was gone. Lori walked away from Michonne, leaving her stunned and frustrated at how abrupt that conversation ended.

 _Rick's my family too._

Michonne's phone buzzed in her hand, she looked at the number and sighed.

"We have to talk," she said.

"What's wrong?" Michonne fought back tears as she began the walk back to the motel. "Michonne?"

"Rick. Not over the phone."

"Okay. I'll come pick you up, but Michonne are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"I love you."

Her tears fell, she took a moment to compose herself in the middle of the sidewalk, not caring that people were gawking at her.

"I love you too."

* * *

Fireflies danced around each other unintentionally creating a light show for Michonne. She wrapped her shawl around her tighter and walked along the edge of the lake with no destination in mind. She wanted to send Christie another text message, letting her know she'll be back in a few hours. Michonne felt a little guilty that she hadn't been keeping up with Christie since Rick came back into her life. She hadn't even seen her the whole day; the only communication shared was a conversation that was short due to Christie rushing off somewhere. Michonne still couldn't remember the full extent of her friendship with Christie, but she was starting to care for the other woman.

Her phone buzzed again, she opened the screen to see a text from Christie:

Yep. 10:30. Be Safe.

"You be safe," Michonne whispered.

"Chonne," Rick came behind Michonne and wrapped his arms around her. He gave her a kiss on the neck and breathe in her scent. "You ready?" He asked. She nodded turning around to face him. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her to the last place he wanted her to see.

Michonne enjoyed the quiet walk through the woods; she was content if all they did was strolled down the uneven path hand in hand. Neither spoke, they didn't really need to. Michonne pulled off her shawl as the air became more humid and draped it over her arm. Her eyes adjusted to the semi darkness, she could see a rabbit scurrying away from them and heard an owl hooting. Up ahead she saw light coming from a tree, as they got closer a ladder was sat against it. Michonne looked up to see it lead to a giant treehouse. Rick moved her to his side, sliding his hand around her waist.

"Surprise."

"A treehouse?"

"Yeah. Built it myself way back in my younger days," he boasted.

"Really?" She looked at Rick skeptically.

"I had some help," he shyly confessed. "Come, you go up first."

Michonne started up the ladder which was at least 15ft high when she reached the top her mouth dropped. She didn't know what she was expecting, something simple and basic on the inside, but Rick transformed a former kid's hideaway to a romantic spot. The house was wide enough to at the most fit 3-4 grown adults. There was a small table and on it was a picnic basket and fan that was making its rotations around the space, Michonne felt the cool air hit her face when it made its way over to her. White curtains covered the window and white Christmas lights were string about the place. There was also what looked like an air mattress covered with sheets and rose petals which made Michonne raise her eyebrows. She looked down, Rick was climbing up behind her.

"You did all this?"

"Yeah and I have the sore muscles to prove it." Rick reached up and lightly slapped Michonne's ample behind.

"Hey now," she laughed.

Michonne didn't think the ceiling of the treehouse was high enough to stand so she crawled to the mattress. Rick climbed up a few seconds later, bringing the ladder up and scooting it to the far corner. Michonne rested her head on her knees, her nerves were making themselves present. This wasn't what she had in mind when Rick picked her up. She wanted to talk about Lori and Mike, but as Rick came over with a huge smile, she no longer wanted to think about them.

"You hungry? I brought sandwiches, cold chicken, and champagne." Rick started to reach over to the picnic sitting next to the candles.

"No," she declined. "Come here," she whispered. Being in the treehouse isolated from the world gave her some comfort, she needed this right now. Michonne watch Rick bite his lower lip and crawled to her. She put down her legs to allow him to lay in between them, nestling his head on her stomach.

"How was your day besides fixing this place up?" She asked.

"Busy," he replied.

"You want to talk about it?"

Rick made himself more comfortable, he felt utterly relaxed. So relax he didn't want to relay his conversation with Morgan; it could wait. "No. How was your day?"

"I met Carl… again."

Rick looked up to see her smiling which relieved him. "Oh yeah? It went well?"

"With him, yes. He's so different yet the same."

"He's happy."

"Yeah," she said quietly.

"Anything else happen?"

Michonne briefly thought back to Lori's warning. "Mmm, yes, but I just want to pretend tonight we have no worries, no problems. Just us."

"Mmhmm." Rick closed his eyes enjoying Michonne's hand playing through his hair and massaging his scalp.

"I miss your hair."

Rick chuckled, "I do too. I look like a dork."

"No you don't."

"You don't have to lie. I'm not even buff anymore. I'm skinny fat."

Michonne laughed, "Skinny fat?"

"Yeah! I'm all flabby. Gotta hit the gym."

"Take off your shirt. I'll be the judge of that."

Rick flipped over on his stomach quirking his eyebrow. Michonne grinned mischievously and that excited him.

"I am a classy man. I can't expose myself in such a manner," he said mimicking a southern woman. He got onto his knees and pretended to cry making Michonne laugh harder.

"Classy my ass. Take it off big boy."

"I'll take off mine if you take off yours," Rick pointed to Michonne's top.

Michonne shrug, "that's fair."

Rick started unbuttoning his shirt, he didn't make it half way before Michonne started to protest.

"Oh you better not," Michonne shouted when she saw he had a top on underneath the button-down shirt.

"What? You said take my top off," Rick said feigning innocence.

Michonne moved from her sitting position and kneeled in front of Rick. She rolled her eyes at his smirk and moved his hands out of the way, unbuttoning his shirt herself and removing it from his shoulders and then his arms.

"Where did this hair come from?" Michonne ran her hands through his chest hair, grinning from ear to ear.

"The stress… you know… the stress caused me to lose my hair," he stammered.

"Yeah right. So you can shave your chest hairs, but couldn't shave that yucky beard you grew out."

"I was not shaving my chest!" Michonne doubled over with laughter. "Are you going to take the rest of my clothes off?" Rick pouted.

Michonne pursed her lips and nodded, trying not to laugh again while she removed his undershirt.

"You look great," she whispered, moving her hands down his chest to his stomach. Rick held her face up to him and kissed her tenderly on her lips.

He licked her lower lip enjoying the effect it was having on Michonne. Her breathing becoming heavier, she held on to his waist to steady herself. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she couldn't stop herself from moaning. His hands then entangled themselves in her hair, moving her closer to him; their noses mushing together. Michonne then reached down to his belt and began tugging at it.

"Wait, wait," Rick said breaking their kiss, "the deal was your shirt as well."

Michonne was slightly irritated at the interruption, but quickly pulled her shirt up over her head. She reached to undo her bra, but Rick stopped her.

"Let me," he whispered. Michonne beamed as Rick made kisses from the top of her breast to her chest to her collarbone and then her neck. His warm breath made her ticklish and then his tongue contacting her sensitive skin caused a moan to escape her lips. He sucked her neck while effortlessly unhooking her bra. Kissing up to her ear, gently biting her earlobe as he removed her bra.

Michonne breath hitched when the air from the fan came in contact with her harden nipples and she moaned with satisfaction when Rick squeezed them.

"Mhmm," he uttered and then took Michonne's left breast into his mouth, sucking her nipple hard and then softly while massaging her right.

"Rick…"

With a quick pop, Rick moved on to her other breast while moving Michonne onto her back. Michonne wrapped her legs around him, feeling herself become wetter as Rick's erection pressed into her.

"Oh god. You do need to grow your hair out. I don't have anything to grab."

Rick pulled away from her and winked, "you sure about that?" He got back on his knees and unzipped his jeans and then unzipped Michonne's. He grabbed onto them and pulled both jeans and panties down her hips. Rick panted as he gazed upon Michonne's pussy lips, wet from her excitement. Tossing her jeans to the side, Rick swallowed and licked his lips, he slid two fingers over her folds. Michonne shivered at his touch, his fingers gliding across her clit. Seeing Michonne eyes closed tightly with her hands clutching her breasts brewed the fire burning in his belly. He slid his two fingers in her; massaging her inner walls and smirked when Michonne began slowly gyrating. He felt her clinging onto his fingers and her juices dripping down his hand.

"I want you inside me," she quietly pleaded.

Rick nodded removing his fingers and sliding his own pants and underwear off. Michonne propped herself up on her elbows and groaned in delight as she viewed Rick's erection hitting his stomach each time he moved. With his pants properly disposed of, Rick crawled to Michonne, leaning over her and letting her grab onto his face for another kiss. There was a growing sense of neediness with each kiss, both of them needed this moment, needed each other. Fire burned in their lungs, neither wanted to end their connection until Michonne felt Rick's length near her entrance, the head of his cock peeking in. She gasped for air and made eye contact with Rick. His eyes were glazed over with lust as he stared at the woman who made his life complete.

He snaked his arm around her waist and guided himself into her, he watched her eyes widen as he moved deeper in her. Michonne couldn't speak all she could do was enjoy as Rick filled her up. Her hands stroked the sides of his face, he leaned into her and capture her lips with his again. As Rick's movements speeded up, he moaned into Michonne's mouth while his length enveloped itself in her warmth.

"Fuck," he gasped. "I love you."

"I love you too," Michonne panted, her hands gripped Rick's behind, encouraging him to go faster. Her toes curl and she felt her heart beating faster. It wouldn't be long before she came.

"Faster baby," she pleaded. Rick held her in a bear hug, thrusting in and out of her until he felt her walls pulsate violently around his cock and heard her cry out. The vice grip Michonne had around his length became too much and he too reached his peak.

They both couldn't move, trying to catch their breath. Rick rain kisses on Michonne's neck while she lazily stroked his back. Eventually, Rick muster up the energy to remove himself and laid down on his back. Michonne rested her head onto his chest, the beating of Rick's heart had a calming effect.

"Stay with me here," Rick said, breaking the silence.

"Can't."

"You won't."

"Yeah. I won't, not without my baby."

"I'm not leaving you."

"I know."

Rick could feel anxiety creeping on him, he looked down and saw Michonne playing with her necklace. Michonne sensed Rick's eyes upon her so she met his gaze. She propped herself on her elbow and kissed him lightly on the lips and smiled widely. Rick moved Michonne's dread out of her face and smiled back, she was beautiful and perfect and Rick wasn't going to lose her again. Michonne then laid back on his chest.

Soon, Rick could hear Michonne's breathing become deeper; she was asleep and he wished he could follow her, but the churning in his stomach kept him awake. He couldn't shake the feeling that he and Michonne weren't going to get the happy ending they both envision.


	10. We're All Mad Here

**Chapter 10: We're all Mad here**

Horns blared from vehicles lined up on I-85 heading into Atlanta. The noise woke Michonne from her sleep, she wiggled in her seat using a blanket to cover herself from the air conditioning and glanced over to Christie who voice cracked trying to hit the high notes in a song. Yawning, Michonne leaned against the window, her eyes grew heavier as her thoughts turned to last night. Before she left, Rick argued that he should come with her because he didn't believe separation should be an option. He tried to bottle up his desperation, but it leaked out little by little. Michonne didn't want to leave him either, their reunion was short-lived and there was still uncertainty about what was real and their best shot was figuring it out together.

 _We're going to be committed if we start chasing something that isn't concrete. What's concrete is my love for you. I'm not leaving you. But we have to try in this world. We have to… for Carl and Andre. That's why I'm going back and that's why you're taking Morgan's offer. We have our lives back and we can't throw that away._

All Rick had to do was object to her assertions and Michonne would have given in, damn the consequences. But he didn't, he gave her a small smile, a kiss, and then drove her back to the motel.

"I have class at nine," Christie mumbled. Michonne shifted part of her body to face Christie, the clock on the radio read 7:56. Christie readjusted the rearview mirror and scratched her eyebrow. "Come the fuck on," she glared at the driver that cut in front of them.

"I'm sorry."

Christie rolled her eyes and tilted her head to Michonne, "For what? Making me panic because you were three hours late, not answering your phone, me driving on two hours of sleep hoping to get to the A before _this,"_ she pointed to the line of vehicles surrounding them. "No apologies needed."

"You won't be late."

Christie clicked her tongue and drove to the next lane, getting them just a few yards further.

Michonne frowned, scoffing she turned the radio and air conditioner on low. "Christie?"

The young woman's focus was on the car that previously cut them off. Her knuckles tighten clenching the steering wheels. "Don't even try it."

"Christie?" Michonne felt for her seatbelt making sure it was secure in case Christie and the other driver wanted to play chicken. "Stop ignoring me."

"I'm not."

"Well, when do classes end?"

Christie blew air bubbles and sighed, "I'll be at work around 1." Traffic lighten as they moved steadily down the freeway.

 _What is her problem?_ "Is there something you want to say to me?" Christie's passive aggressiveness chipped away at Michonne's patience.

"Is it over between you and Mike?"

Michonne shifted away from Christie, "Yes," she whispered.

"Wow," Christie chuckled, "Wow. Just like that?"

"It's really none of your business," Michonne retorted.

"You _made_ it my business!"

The two women stewed in silence as the speed of the vehicle increased. _This is just a taste of how everyone I know will react to me choosing Rick over Mike._

"Where's all of this coming from?" Christie's lack of support dumbfounded her. Besides Rick, Michonne's only source of comfort was her.

"This Rick is unstable." Their eyes met. Christie's full of worry and Michonne's anger.

"You don't know him," Michonne said defensively, "You couldn't even trouble yourself to properly meet him."

"That's fair. I met his friend though and his friend had a lot to say."

 _Friend?_ Any friends of Rick's from before were unknown to Michonne with the exception of Morgan, and it was questionable whether Morgan was actually a friend.

"He said something happened to Rick like he snapped last week and hasn't been the same since."

Michonne shook her head, "Rick's friend talks a lot."

"Loose lips. A symptom of his drunken state."

"So he's an authority on mental health? If Rick is unstable then what does that make me?"

"Don't you get it," Christie sighed and drove towards the exit ramp. "Something happened and apparently something happened to both of you and it's affecting ya'll. The last thing you should be doing is making life changing decisions when you don't know what's up or what's down."

Michonne's eyes downcast, she removed the blanket and started folding it; her silence an admittance to Christie being right.

"I don't want to pretend that you're okay," Christie's voice soften. "You don't go from being career-minded and focus to half-assing your responsibilities as an attorney."

 _Because it doesn't matter, it could all end tomorrow and it wouldn't matter._

"You and Mike. Michonne, two weeks ago, I had the misfortune of walking in on you two all over each other. From the outside you were happy. I mean maybe you were faking the funk, but I don't think so when I compare that time to all of last week. The tension between you guys is thickening. And, now you're leaving him, just like that… for Rick."

"Christie. I don't want to talk about this," Michonne said quietly.

"When I was out of control, you were there. Even when I hurt you or did or said something hateful, you stayed and helped me."

Michonne looked at Christie who was staring straight ahead, biting her lip—a single tear came down her face.

"Christie?" She reached out and touched the young woman's arm. _I wish I could remember everything about us. I really do._

"I'm just trying to look out for you as well." Christie drove into Michonne's parking lot and stopped.  
"I need to get my car out of your parking space," she said getting out. She walked to a silver BMW and got inside.

 _A law student with a new model BMW?_ Michonne maneuvered to the driver's seat while Christie reversed her car alongside Michonne's. Rolling down her window, Michonne gestured for Christie to do the same.

"You don't need to come in today. Go to class and then get some sleep," Michonne said, hoping to not leave on sour terms.

"Yes mommy," she responded, smiling.

 _We're good. For now._

* * *

The clock on the wall ticking away and the distant sounds of Atlanta were all Michonne could hear when she entered her home. Michonne placed her bags on the couch and sighed, in 24 hours she'd have to argue her case in a court of law. Someone's life was in her hands and she felt ill prepared and unconfident. Her eyes darted to her katana back on the wall. _Damn_. _I miss swinging you around._ Slaying walkers with her weapon seemed easier than being a lawyer. She had a skill, a rare skill, it made her valuable, and it saved her life and others, countless times. Michonne knew what to do anytime she had to unsheathe it; a skillful swing towards the target, slicing through limbs, stabbing through guts and then moving on to the next. Easy. Going back to fighting with her words—not so much.

After having a mini breakfast of water and a breakfast bar, the clock ticked towards 9:30, Michonne needed to get to the office, but a warm bath called out to her. She picked up Andre's toy cars that were in the middle of the hallway and heard the soft melody of _Twinkle Twinkle_ playing from Andre's room. Entering it, she began cleaning up the clutter until she found the source of the music underneath Andre's crib; an Elmo radio. Michonne grinned, skipping through different nursery songs until _Twinkle Twinkle_ played again. Switching the radio off, she set it next to Andre's blocks, Michonne's fingers lightly tapped along the top of the colorful blocks until she paused at A.

 _"A. B. C. Can you point to the letter A?" Michonne asked. But, Judith couldn't or wouldn't instead the little girl's attention went to the red solo cups stacked neatly in the corner. She crawled to her beloved treasures, ignoring the blocks and a flustered Michonne. "I got your message loud and clear, Judy."_

Michonne's eyes watered, out of all the people that she left behind in the other world, there was no chance she'd see Judith again.

"I need a bath." She sent Spencer a text, informing him she'll be at the office by eleven. Michonne suppressed a yawn, rubbing her tired eyes. She'd rather go on a run for supplies and collide with a dozen walkers then spend all day sifting through papers and tweaking her argument. The adrenaline rush she always got after cutting down walkers with her katana couldn't be compared.

Walking into her bedroom, her eyes fell upon a royal blue dress draped over the bed with a note on top of it. Michonne sighed and read the note:

 **Tonight. Dinner. You and Me. Baby, please be ready by 8. I love you and I hope you like the dress.**

"Mike." _You were happy just two weeks ago_. Christie's word presenting themselves in her head. Michonne grasped her necklace, moving the 'M' back and forth on the chain as her other hand glided over the soft fabric. The dress was a sleeveless A-line cut with a deep V-neck; it will hug in the right places. "He knows what I like," she mused. Removing her hand from her necklace she viewed the dress with heavy resolve. _I'm a cheater._ She cheated on Mike, Michonne couldn't sugarcoat what happened last night.

She made her bath, dropping a bath bomb in the water; its purpose was to relax the mind, something Michonne desperately needed to happen. Mike was owed the truth and the engagement had to be called off. That was the plan. Her task was much easier than Rick's on paper; he had to go through an entire divorce proceeding and if Lori found out about them… Michonne sunk into the hot tub, the tension in her muscles already easing. Things were going to be messy for Rick and Lori, but Michonne knew his heart was with her. _Can you say the same thing?_ Days, before the world went to shit, her and Mike, were in a blissful state. Marriage always on the forefront of their goals.

She slid further in the tub until the water was up to her chin, the sandalwood smell started to have its intended effect on Michonne. _How will I tell him that we can't be together because of something he didn't do? How do I convince him we're done when I'm… when I need convincing as well?_ "Fuck. You're a lawyer, Michonne. Figure it out," she whispered as she drifted to sleep.

Michonne's cell rang, she opened one eye and closed it again, not wanting to be bothered, but after the third ring she sat up. Carefully reaching over for her phone as to not splash water on the floor, she grabbed it from the bath shelf.

"Spencer?"

"Ms. Cassel," Spencer breathed heavily in her ear. His voice rose giving away his panic state. "I can't find Daryl Dixon."

Michonne rolled her eyes. _Fuck me_. She got out of the bath, wrapping a towel around herself, "He couldn't have just up and disappeared."

"I'm standing outside his trailer, Ms. Cassel. His bike is gone and…"

"That doesn't mean he left town."

"I… I," Spencer stammered.

"Spencer, take a moment and breathe," his panicking had Michonne's heart racing, she quickly dried herself off and rummaged through her drawer for undergarments. Placing her phone on speaker, she listened to Spencer's efforts to calm himself down.

"I'm sorry. I went inside. That's breaking and entering!"

Michonne's eyebrows furrowed, "Ok… why did you break into his home?"

"No! The door was slightly ajar."

Michonne let out a frustrating sigh, "Spencer, you didn't break in. Tell me what you saw."

"Nothing."

"Then why are you panicking?"

"Because that's the problem. There is nothing, but standard furniture left in his trailer. All his personal belongings are gone. It wasn't like this on Saturday. Ms. Cassel, Daryl is gone!"

* * *

Michonne and Spencer sat on Daryl's porch waiting for Detective Brian Blake to speak with them. After Michonne arrived, she inspected the trailer except for one room she couldn't open, but everywhere else looked as if someone moved out quickly which was troubling. A couple of days ago, Daryl was on her back making sure she was doing her job to help his brother and now when he was needed for that same reason, he bounces. Spencer's knee bounced excitedly next to her, Michonne had to reassure him several times that he didn't screw up. Spencer was young and while they waited he told Michonne that he needed to prove himself a success to his parents. His mother was a US Senator and his father a renowned architect and he wasn't sure if he was cut out to be an attorney.

"I chose you to work for me. I wouldn't have done that if I didn't think you had what it takes," she said, patting him on the knee. Spencer nodded and placed his hand on top of hers.

"Thank you, Ms. Cassel." He squeezed her hand tighter looking into her eyes, she hesitantly smiled. "I mean it, you've helped me a lot this year and I appreciate you." _Oh, Lord_. Spencer tried to interlock his fingers with Michonne when a car approach, giving Michonne the opportunity to remove her hand.

She stood up, greeting the detective that was getting out of the vehicle. Detective Blake was tall, he ran his hand through his dirty blond hair and slammed the car door shut. Michonne held out her hand and he looked at it with disgust.

"What reason would the lawyer that's poking holes in my case have to call me?" He hocked up saliva and spat on the ground. Michonne folded her arms _, I do not have time for this_.

"I didn't call you, I called the police, reporting a missing person."

"And how do you know he's missing," his accent was strong. Michonne figured Atlanta wasn't his native home.

She gestured to Daryl's trailer, "See for yourself why."

Spencer and she followed behind the detective as they reentered the trailer. Blake looked side to side, scanning the small area. He then turned to Michonne, "What I see is a man who knows his brother is guilty of murdering those two junkies and figured he'd cut his losses and leave town."

"You've come to that conclusion after standing here for two seconds." Michonne's eyes narrowed.

"Why yes, I did. Nothing broken in here, nothing scattered. So it wasn't a robbery." Det. Blake walked through the narrow hallway and tried to enter the door that wouldn't budge for Michonne. He pushed against it harder and then slammed his shoulder into it breaking the door open. Michonne and Spencer shared a glance, Spencer swallowed, he was about to say something when Det. Blake yelled out.

"DID YOU TAMPER WITH ANYTHING IN HERE?!"

Michonne and Spencer rushed to the back. They stopped by the doorway with Det. Blake blocking their entrance.

"No!" Michonne said, not backing away as he got into her space. She looked passed him and saw the mess.

"Omg! We… we didn't come back here," Spencer said.

A single dresser drawer was smashed and the bed eschewed. There were obvious signs of struggle, but no blood could be seen from where she was standing.

"Imma need you two to stand outside," he grabbed Michonne's arm making her slap his hand away.

"I can walk," she glared at him, "Without assistance."

Michonne and Spencer walked to the front door as Det. Blake dialed more than likely back up. "What are we going to tell Merle?" Spencer whispered, wringing his hands. Michonne sighed and closed the door behind them as they stood on the porch.

"Nothing. We tell him nothing."

"His brother is missing. Probably hurt."

"And he's also volatile and unpredictable. We tell him when we have more information on Daryl's whereabouts."

"He's expecting his brother to testify?"

Michonne wanted to scream, Daryl was Merle's alibi, not a completely reliable alibi, but still another tool to place doubt in jurors' minds.

"I know, Spencer. We need to sift through the details of the murder that happened in King's County. Tomorrow we'll try and get the judge to dismiss based on there being major problems with this case." Michonne walked to her car, putting her hair in the bun. "Or we have a better chance of delaying the trial. We need to show Judge Meyer's the evidence we gathered."

"Wow! So my contact was right, the murder that happens in King's County was similar."

"Not similar. The same. It's the same guy, it has to be."

"This is going to sound crazy, but do you think this guy is aware that someone else is on trial for what he did?"

Michonne eyed Spencer, it wasn't a crazy assertion at all. The only problem, if this person is aware of the trial then he's aware of her and those involve which was too close for comfort.

 _Walkers were easy. People not so much_.

* * *

It had been too long since Michonne had a fancy evening out. She stepped out of the car and almost twisted her ankle, still not completely reacquainted with heels. She held onto the door to adjust her footing.

"Baby, I was going to get the door for you," Mike jogged to her side and held out his hand which she took.

Earlier in the evening, Michonne protested against going out. Her trial was resuming tomorrow, Daryl Dixon was missing—a fact she wasn't about to tell his brother yet, and mentally Michonne was exhausted. Mike insisted, calling tonight's dinner, a good luck date. He also argued it was needed especially when Michonne was about to drown herself in work again until the trial was over. Mike had good points, but Michonne didn't know how long she could last in his presence before telling him the truth about where her heart lay.

Mike closed the car door behind her and escorted her to the door of _Aria_ ; an Atlanta restaurant. Michonne found herself admiring how dapper Mike looked in his white shirt with blazer combo and dark blue dress pants. The entire outfit was tailored to perfection. Mike gave keys to the valet attendant and came back to Michonne, he kissed her on the mouth and walked her inside.

 _Aria_ lived up to its name for being one of the most romantic spots in Atlanta. The interior and decorating were white with black accents and black and white floral paintings hanging on the wall. They were seated by the host in a secluded area, there were only one other couple with them, an older man and woman who were quietly chatting, holding hands across the table, and occasionally taking sips of their wine. Michonne and Mike sat away from them, with her back to them, the only scenery she had was the chandelier casting a soft glow on one of the murals.

Mike took off his blazer, placed it on his chair and sat down across from her.

"You look absolutely stunning, Mich," he gently caressed her hand, his fingers gliding over the engagement ring she wore. Mike held her hand up, they stared deeply at one another; his eyes full of happiness while Michonne tried to mimic the same expression. He moved her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it and then her ring. Michonne smiled, giving Mike the false confidence that all was right with them, but her heart tugged remembering her hand entwined with Rick's, fingers clenched in the throes of passion, last night. Michonne swallowed and kindly removed her hand, occupying it with a menu.

"Welcome to Aria. We have several specials for tonight, would you like to hear them?" A waiter stood patiently at their table, he wore the typical penguin suit without the jacket that most wore at expensive restaurants. His dark tie matched his eyes. Michonne gaped for a moment before catching herself. _He looks familiar._

"No thank you," she answered for both of them, Mike nodded in agreement. Michonne glanced over the menu, the majority of the food she hadn't tasted or even thought about in so long. The decadence and luxury of it all were disconcerting.

"I'll have the jumbo lump crab cakes," Mike informed the waiter. "The New York strip steak and for dessert, the devil's cake."

Michonne eyed him dubiously, she didn't think he needed that much food, she survived on less, but she silently checked herself. There was no shortage of food here and indulging in something she used to take for granted was harmless.

"I'll just have the crab cakes with a side of asparagus."

"And to drink?"

"A glass of Dolcetto," Mike responded.

"Chardonnay," said Michonne. She folded her menu and handed it to the waiter, thoughts that she may consume more than just one glass by the end of the night crawled into her mind. Michonne took a sip of water, giving her mouth something to do so that she wouldn't be the first to start talking.

"How was the trip?"

"It was fine," she responded, flatly, setting the water down on the table.

Mike chuckled, "Just fine? You didn't call back like you promised on Friday. Figured your trip was more than just fine."

"I'm sorry, don't really want to talk about it," she said, pushing memories of Rick and the treehouse to the bottom of her brain.

Dubious, Mike stared at her, licking his lips. He readjusted his seat and began tapping on the table.

Michonne rubbed her lips together, and grinned, "I don't want to talk about it because it might have been a waste of time, now that my client's brother has gone missing," she further explained.

Mike nodded, "Look, we're here to get your mind off the case and here I am bringing it up. Sorry baby." His fingers tickled the back of her hand, Michonne smiled, but couldn't look him in the eye.

The waiter came back, pushing a trolley with two bottles of wine and wine glasses. Michonne observed his features, her skin prickled as if there were electric wiring firing off thousands of signals to her brain to jargon up a memory. The waiter's hands shook slightly when he sat the glasses down and he struggled to open the first bottle.

"My apologies, I've never opened one of these before," he stammered.

Michonne smiled reassuringly meeting Mike's gaze, he was smirking.

POP!

The waiter gleefully grinned at his success and held the bottle up to them in triumphant. He poured a little of the red wine in Mike's glass, Mike nodded and took a sip.

"What's your name?" Michonne asked as the waiter started on the second bottle.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" He put the bottle down and bowed to her, Michonne started to tell him he didn't have to do all that, but he blurted, "My name's Glenn. I should have introduced myself first. Sorry, I've only been working here for a week. I was delivering pizza before and then this job kinda fell into my lap. And..."

 _I know that name?_ Her eyes widen, the same sensation she felt when she saw Tyreese's picture on television had returned. Michonne picked at her hands, furiously rubbing her thumb on her palm. Her brain blanked as if there was a common word on the tip of her tongue, but she suddenly forgot what it was.

Glenn poured white wine into her glass, she lightly touched his arm and made eye contact. _Please remember me, please tell me you're going through the same thing._ He seemed perplexed by her touch and Michonne knew it was because she was being weird. Mike's worrisome gaze could be seen from the corner of her eye.

"More. Fill it near the top," she quietly asked, removing her hand.

Glenn did as he was told and as soon as he was done, Michonne took her drink and downed it without taking a breath. Both men looked at her with stunned silence. "Fill it up again," she requested.

"Michonne," Mike started. But, Michonne put her hand up and smiled.

"Thank you," she said to Glenn. She felt tempted to down the liquid again, but Mike's face dissuaded her.

"Umm. Your dinner should be done soon. I'll be back with it," Glenn said to Mike, avoiding Michonne's eyes until the last second. His eyebrows quirked and he seemed lost for words. Heat rose to Michonne's face as her eyes quickly darted to Mike.

 _I'm being a fool again._

The air burst with silence between them, Michonne crossed and then uncrossed her legs, she took a sip of her wine, this time, around and set it back down. She willed herself to look happy even though she wanted to crawl into bed and sleep.

"Mom facetime me last night. Took ten minutes for her to use it right," Mike laughed quietly.

Michonne beamed, "Oh yeah, how is she?"

"Doing good, she told me how proud her doctor is of her for doing well with her diabetes."

"That's great!" She blinked rapidly and took another sip of wine.

"I told her about our engagement as well."

Michonne uncrossed her legs, kicking the table by accident as she leaned over it. "Why? Why did you tell her?"

"Why not?" He asked defensively.

She shook her head, "Because..." she paused, readjusting her dress. Her thumb rubbed against her engagement ring. "Because I wanted it to be a surprise to her and my parents," she grabbed Mike's hand and smiled.

"You wanted to throw an engagement party?" His lips turned upward as his fingers interlocked with Michonne's.

Michonne nodded, "yes."

"Aww, Mich. Hey, you can still do the party. Mom will be happy regardless."

Michonne drank the rest of her glass, Mike wasn't even done with his first. "That's great!" Michonne needed to collect her thoughts, "Hey. I need some air. That wine went straight through me," she got up from her seat and smoothed out her dress. The older couple that sat behind them were gone.

"Mich, you okay?" Mike stood up as well, but Michonne stopped him, she tentatively walked forward, the alcohol really was affecting her. She gently yet firmly pushed against his chest, forcing him to sit back down. "I'm not letting you out there by yourself," he protested.

"I'll be right outside, I need to call Christie and see if there's an update on Dixon." She kissed him on the cheek and grabbed her purse, as she was walking to the door, Glenn was bringing the food. Michonne stepped in front of him, "May I ask you a quick question?"

"Yes Ma'am, sure," Glenn stopped and sat their food on the waiter's tray, the aroma of the crab cakes made her stomach rumble.

"Glenn, besides getting a new job did anything else happen to you last week?"

"Uh, no," he said hesitantly, dragging out the 'no.' "Do we know each other?"

Michonne stared blankly, "I... I think so."

"Did I deliver you pizza?" Glenn gave her a half-grinned.

"Are you sure nothing happen to you? No blackouts, headaches, really bad nightmares."

"Ma'am. Um no," he chuckled and then stopped after seeing Michonne's frown, "Ma'am are you okay?"

"Why do people keep asking that?" Michonne snapped. She swallowed, eyes of other guests were on her back, shaking her head, "I'll be outside," Michonne muttered, stalking out of the restaurant.

* * *

Michonne took in deep breaths as she paced, the air was warm and each time she breathed in her stomach rumbled; she was hungry and she knew she needed to go back inside soon, but her mind changed with each step. Cars honked and people brushed by her, music played two buildings down. Michonne began walking towards it until she came to the source; a man playing his saxophone. She watched as his fingers skillfully pressed the buttons, his eyes were closed only occasionally opening them to glance at her. She didn't know the song he was playing, but she allowed herself to become engross in the music.

For her, it's been too long since she heard live music. She tapped rhythmically to the tune and slowly opened her eyes. The musician smiled at her and she smiled back. Michonne looked to her right, a man holding hands with a woman and carrying a sleeping boy on his shoulders walked towards them. Her eyes darted to a group of young people, drunkenly laughing and talking over each other. And then back at the saxophonist, nodding his head to the elderly couple from the restaurant, they dropped cash into his hat. Michonne's smile dropped. _All of these people died._

They all died, some of them turned, most of them became food for those who turned while only a few survived. And out of those few, most turned into thieves, rapists, animals killing to protect their own.

The music became faint, Michonne heart pounded in her ear drum as she tried to calm herself. She watched as the musician continued to play, but she could no longer hear him, Michonne took a step backward, bumping into someone. She turned, a woman spoke to her but Michonne couldn't hear. All she could do was mouthed her apologies. _What is happening to me?_ Walking back to the restaurant, she stopped and stood her back to the wall. _Michonne, relax, don't panic, just breathe._ She closed her eyes and breathe deeply in and slowly let the air out. _You can hear, you can hear, you can hear._

 _Grrr_

Michonne held her breath, she wanted to reach for her katana, but it wasn't there. _It's your stomach, stupid. Open your eyes!_ The crowded sidewalk she stood on was empty, cars were still on the street, but abandoned. Michonne swallowed, but her mouth was dry, she looked down to the right, hoping to see the musician, but no one was there. _Wake up! Please, wake up._ The air was significantly cooler as Michonne took a step forward. Her heels clicked on the pavement, the moans made her stop in her track. She turned to her right, facing what she perceived the noise coming from and slipped off her shoes. Once again, arming herself with her stilettos.

 _Grrr_

Now the moans came from behind, Michonne whipped around, seeing a lone man facing away from her. He was hunched over, squishy and munching noises came from him. _You're dreaming. This is a dream. It's not real, wake up, Michonne._

Michonne knew better than to make a sound, this wasn't her first rodeo. That man was no longer a man.

She inched closer. And closer. _One swing. The base of the skull._ Michonne held her breath, two years of experience that never left her came to the surface. The walker kept eating, oblivious to its enemy behind it. Michonne raised her shoe and swung. _What!_ The walker had her arm, she swung her other shoe, but it caught that too. _What is going on!_ It snarled at her, its rotting skin had peeled off around its mouth. Its teeth snapped together as Michonne moved her head, she moved forward, pushing the walker against the wall and wiggling one of her arms loose. She kicked at it.

"Michonne!"

That voice coming from the walker made her stop momentarily, she blinked rapidly and shook her head. The walker lunged for her, Michonne moved out of its reach, yanking her other arm loose. She walked backward, trying to put distance between her and it as she looked around for another weapon.

"Michonne!"

 _What!_ The voice was coming from the walker, but its mouth wasn't moving. Ignoring it, she glanced to her left and saw lead pipes lying on the ground. She picked one up and stalked towards the walker.

"Put it down Michonne!" The walker lunged for her again, but she sidesteps and swung only for the walker to dodge it. In disbelief, Michonne swung but stopped midway.

"Michonne?"

It was Mike, his clothes were tattered and bloody and in his hands he carried a small body. Michonne blinked, tears fell from her eyes. _This isn't real. It isn't real_.

"I'm sorry Michonne."

Rage. That's what she felt now, her heart pounded and all she saw was red. "YOU'RE SORRY!" Her hands held onto the pipe tighter. "You did this! You were his father, Mike! You chose to get high over protecting your son, you piece of shit."

Michonne raised her pipe. Mike stood before her, armless, eyes vacant. She'd seen this before, she'd caused this. "You're dead and I found someone better. You're dead because you gave up and I found someone who would rather _die_ than watch his children be torn apart," she spat. Her eyes became blurry through the tears.

"I don't love you anymore. I did, but not anymore. Not after finding real love and true partnership." Michonne swallowed, she took a step back and gazed upon what Mike had become. An armless, jawless pet. "Goodbye Mike," she whispered. Michonne swung the pipe, connecting it to the walker's skull. She was about to swing again until she felt arms wrapped around her, constraining her.

"Michonne! Stop. Stop. Baby, stop."

Her head turned, Mike was holding her. The nighttime breeze brushed across her wet face. Michonne was in a dazed, she turned and saw a crowd had formed. _Not again_.

"I have you. Michonne, I have you."

 _No, you don't have me. I don't even have myself_. Michonne slowly fell to her knees, Mike came down with her. There were broken glass and the saxophone inches from her, twisted and dented in. She looked up and saw the saxophonist holding his head.

"I'm sorry. I…" she croaked out to him.

"Shh… we're going to take you to a hospital. Michonne look at me," said Mike.

She shook her head. _I can't go. They'll think I'm crazy_.

"I… I need to rest. I have court tomorrow. Merle—Merle's innocent. He'll die. I can't—."

"Michonne, baby please, look at me."

Michonne looked up, Mike stared painfully into her eyes. She felt his muscles jumping and saw his jaw clenched. _He knows, but he won't say anything. Not yet_. The ambulance sirens ranged in her ear, she felt more people surrounding her.

"Sir." Voices were becoming inaudible as Michonne felt Mike loosen her grip on her.

"It'll be ok." He mouthed to her as more hands touched her, lifting her up, carrying her. Michonne closed her eyes, she wanted to believe it'll be ok, but how could it be. How was she going to be able to function as a normal person if her mind was stuck in two worlds? She opened her eyes, the bright lights made her squint. She felt a sharp sting in her arm, she looked down and saw a man removing a needle from it.

"This is going to help you, Ma'am. Just relax."

Michonne's eyes flutter, drowsiness knocked on her door like an unwanted guest. "I…," her throat burned, she swallowed to lessen the pain and tried speaking again, "Call Rick. Rick Grimes. I need him."

Michonne didn't think they heard her, but she couldn't lift her head. Darkness began seeping over the light and overtook her just as she was about to speak his name again.


	11. Discovery

**Chapter 11: Discovery**

Rick cautiously peeked inside the hospital room, no one was sitting vigil beside the bed or the couch on the adjacent side of the room. Stepping inside, he shifted the half dozen white carnations to his other hand. Flowers bought from the hospital's gift shop— the only ones left that did not look half dead.

Leon Basset lain motionless on the bed, a feeding tube inserted in his nasal cavity and the heart monitor beeping at a steady rhythm. Rick sat down in the chair, placing the sad carnations on the side table. _I stopped myself from ending up like this, only for Leon to take my place._ Rick thoughts turned to a science theory called 'the butterfly effect'. The first time Rick ever heard that term it was from a bad movie he and Lori saw in the theaters, but what if there was some truth to the theory? Was he being here messing with the lives of those around him? Rick placed his hand on top of Leon's hand and said a silent prayer. _Wake up soon buddy_.

The door opened and Shane came in carrying a large bouquet of assorted flowers that dwarfed Rick's carnations. They nodded to each other as Shane quietly closed the door behind him. They hadn't talked since Friday, leaving on uneasy terms even after Shane came to Rick's defense with Lori.

"Everybody pitched in on these— they wanted me to bring 'em down," he nervously chuckled and placed the flowers beside the carnations. "Linda and Tamera picked them out," he said, placing his hands in his pockets.

"I can tell." Rick observed the arrangement, "That vase—that's something special." The vase was a blue and white floral design. "Fess up—you steal it from your Grandma Jean's house?"

Shane sheepishly grinned and shook his head, "Man, lay off my granny, she has impeccable taste."

Rick laughed, "I'll remind you of that next time when you start complaining about those sweaters, she knits you."

Shane smirked, strolling over to the other side of Leon, "Hey bud. We're still here." Shane looked to Rick for further reassurance to keep speaking, Rick gestures to him to keep going. "Everyone sends their love, they hope you come back real soon."

Shane lightly touched Leon's arm and then sat down on the couch, rubbing his eyes and then stared at Rick.

"Nice suit," Shane said. Sitting back, he draped his arm on the back of the couch.

Rick loosen his sapphire tie that matched his eyes; he only owned two and one of them he hadn't worn since his wedding day. Rick had done his best this morning to iron it out without Lori's assistance, but his black pants had creases in the wrong areas and he sprayed too much starch on his matching jacket.

"You're not undecided anymore, huh?" Shane sarcastically asked.

"More pay," Rick said.

"And away from me."

Rick sighed, "Not everything is about you brother." He stood up, amazed that he and Shane could not stay in the same room for longer than five minutes before the tension thickens it.

"Didn't say it was," Shane scoffed. Clicking his tongue he gazed out the window and back at Leon. "That could've been you."

Rick's temples pulsed, irritated that Shane said out loud what he was thinking just moments before.

"Last week, you were taking those assholes down one by one, no fear, none whatsoever." Shane pinched his lower lip, his hand then sweeping towards his eye, a brief smile crossed his face as he met Rick's harden stare. "It was cool, crazy as hell, but you almost ended up right next to Basset if it wasn't for me."

Rick started to smile, not because he was happy, but because he knew where this was going. How many times did Shane remind Rick that he was the reason Lori and Carl were safe? The little pieces of the 'Shane' puzzle were being put back together.

"So I owe you my loyalty?"

"Why not? We are— _were_ partners, I had your back out there." Shane's voice began to rise, nostrils flared. "I've always been there and now you're just ending it, like that."

 _Now you know how all your exes feel_. "I need the money, that's all there is to it. I might even retire in a few years." Rick chuckled, "Become a farmer."

Astonished, Shane shook his head, his face relaxing, "I can't see Lori wanting to be a farmer's wife."

"Well," Rick stood up, resisting the desire to break the news to Shane that he wanted to end his marriage, "People change."

"I'm learning that firsthand." Shane stood up as well, dusting his pants. "Might as well ask, is our friendship over as well?"

Rick frowned, he had never seen Shane look this vulnerable even when he sunk the knife into his belly that one faithful night, even in his last moments there was defiance in Shane's eyes. _That was then, this is now._

"That won't change Shane," Rick held his hand out. "We're brothers," Shane smiled, ignoring his hand and pulling Rick in for a hug. Memories of the night he had to kill his best friend swirled through Rick's mind. He really wanted to start over with Shane and put aside the grief he experienced with the unhinged version. He would be lying to himself if he thought _that_ Shane didn't exist in this world, but it was there lying dormant and hopefully if the world doesn't end, that Shane won't be ignited.

"Look at us, acting like two hormonal women," Shane laughed against Rick's neck.

"You're the one crying." He moved back, Shane quickly wiped his eye.

"Man, I just had someth—."

The heart monitor started beeping wildly as Leon's body convulsed. Both Rick and Shane rushed over to his side. Leon shook violently, his jaw and hands clenched tightly, awful wheezing noises came from his mouth. Shane tried to hold down his shoulders.

"WAIT," Rick pulled at Shane's arms, "he's having a seizure, holding him down will make it worse." He pressed the nurses' button over and over while Shane paced. Neither men knew what else to do, but luckily nurses came streaming in, pushing them out of the way as they worked on Leon.

Rick rubbed his face and felt the tears. Shane's hands were upon him, leading him out to the hallway.

"Hey, hey, he'll be okay," Shane reassured, sitting Rick down. Rick felt tremendous pressure on his chest and he tried to steady his breathing. He glanced towards Shane, who crouched in front of him as two more nurses and a doctor enter Leon's room.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Shane paused, Rick felt remorse for last week. If what he's been through in his mind for the past two years wasn't a reminder that life was short then Leon fighting for his life surely was. This was a second chance and Rick needed a new start, no more grudges.

A nurse stepped out and approached them, she bunched up her burgundy sweater as if she was cold. Rick could see the worry on her face before she hid it with a soft smile.

"Leon's stable again, but I'm sorry you'll have to come back later," she said.

"I'll call his wife, she'll… she'll need to know," said Shane.

She held her hand out to him, "I'm about to notify her now. He's fine, Dr. Trae is at his side, seizures sometimes happen with coma patients."

Both men nodded understanding that their presence wasn't needed nor wanted at the time. The nurse smiled again and turned and went back to the room. Rick saw through the blinds, Dr. Trae injected some solution into Leon's arm while a different nurse checked his vital signs.

"You heading back to the station?" Shane asked, entering into Rick's train of thought.

Rick nodded, "yeah I'll see you there."

Shane walked away, turning around briefly to observe Rick stepping closer to the window. Shane wanted to go back and force Rick to come with him but thought better of it. The nurse's reassurances couldn't convince Rick that Leon wasn't far from ok. There was a possibility the man could die and then what? Would Leon come back, would a part of his brain command the rest of it to defy modern science and have a hunger for human flesh? Rick wanted to know if this was the beginning of him reliving hell. He stared through the window until he saw the doctor stepped back, nodding his head to the other nurses and touching Leon's shoulder.

Rick listened closely as the doctor spoke. "Welcome back Leon," he said.

* * *

Rick sat at his desk, placing his signature on the final piece of tax and work transfer paper. He shifted the fan for the fourth time in an effort to relieve himself from the heat; it was brutal inside the station and even worst outside. He laid down the paper on a stack of more papers and shuffled them so that they were neat.

Twirling around and around in his chair, Rick hoped that this wouldn't be his new work life set up, stuck behind a desk, filling out paperwork. He called Michonne after leaving the hospital, wanting to hear the voice that always grounded him back to reality, but received no answer. He knew she had to be neck deep in her case considering the trial would resume tomorrow.

He missed her even before she left while she was in his arms, sleeping peacefully against his chest, he missed her. He had half a mind to turn in resignation papers, take Carl, drive up to Atlanta, grab Michonne and her son Andre, and live out the rest of their days in the middle of nowhere. Rick would be content with that life.

Rick swiveled his chair facing his desk and sat up. He pulled out a legal pad from his drawer and wrote down the names of the only three lawyers that he knew of that worked in King's County. And out of those three, only one was a family attorney. Putting down the pen, Rick web searched divorce attorneys in Georgia, pulling up hundreds of names, he then narrowed the location radius and the price range. _Still too many to choose from. Michonne probably knows some good attorneys._ Rick quickly dispelled that thought, Michonne shouldn't be involved in his divorce with Lori. Especially considering that from an outsider's perspective, Rick was having an affair. No one would believe that his heart, body, and soul moved on after Lori's "death" and he has been fully committed to Michonne.

Seeing Morgan approach, Rick clicked out of his search links and placed the legal pad back in his drawer. Morgan was another person Rick didn't want knowing of his divorce plans.

"You ready, Detective Grimes," Morgan smiled, carrying two cups of coffee. He sat on the edge of Rick's desk and held out one of the cups to Rick. Rick accepted, taking a couple of sips and enjoying the caffeine energy boost.

"I have more stuff to sign."

"Eh. That can wait, we have a murder to solve. C'mon."

Rick nodded, pushing his wallet, keys and phone into his pockets, and grabbing his jacket even though he dreaded the thought of wearing it in the sweltering heat.

* * *

The small house on the end of the block was even more of a sore thumb amongst its perfect peers. Police tape and several barricades were strewn over the front lawn. The little garden had been trampled on by police and forensics. A neighbor peered out of their front door watching as Rick and Morgan waited for Carol Peletier to open the door.

Rick wiped the sweat from his brow, on the way there, he mentally practiced what he'd say to Carol. While Morgan wanted to question her about her husband's murder, Rick wanted to know if she had any recollection about the post-apocalypse world. He felt a familiarity with her that he didn't want to shrug it off as just a weird phenomenal.

The door creaked open, just enough for them to see a sliver of Carol. Morgan stood in front, partially blocking Rick from her view.

"What is it?" Her voice not as timid as before when Rick and Shane first met her.

"Mrs. Peletier, I'm Detective Morgan Jones, I told you on Friday we'll be coming by today for an interview."

She gave a brusque nod, her eyes darted behind Morgan landing on Rick.

"Why is he here?" The door began closing, but Morgan put his hand on it to stop.

"Mrs. Peletier, Detective Grimes is my new partner, and he's been cleared." Morgan turned to Rick who smiled tightly. She knew he was never a suspect, she just didn't like him, and Rick wanted to know why.

Morgan didn't wait for a response from Carol, he pushed the door open further as Carol relented, taking a step back. Both men came inside with Rick closing the door behind him. The front lawn and garden might have been a mess, but the living room and adjacent dining were practically spotless. Rick's eyes fell upon the spot he saw Ed's headless corpse. Not even the bleach that was used could rid all the evidence that Ed died in that spot.

"We want to catch your husband's killer… quickly," Morgan said. His voice was soothing and firm and his words could easily come off as condescending, but instead his cadence had a touch of care to it. "The first and most helpful step in bringing this monster to justice are discovering anything we can about the victim. And we need your help with that."

Rick fiddle with his suit jacket. He wished he left it in the car because there was no air conditioning in Carol's home. There was a fan by the dining area, but its air was turned towards the kitchen. Rick gazed over at Carol, their eyes met and she quickly averted them back to Morgan. She pulled out a chair from the table and sat down, Morgan follow suit.

"Do you mind if my partner looks around for clues while we talk?" Carol frowned, sighing she pulled an ashtray containing half a cigarette towards her. "I figure you'll be more comfortable without Rick lingering," he added.

"Sure," she said quietly, lighting up the cigarette and taking a long drag. "Can we stop pretending as if I have a say in the manner, though?" She rolled her eyes and took another drag. Morgan grinned and nodded to Rick. Rick didn't need any further encouragement, he was actually glad to not have to be under Carol's watchful eye.

He left them alone and climbed up the creaky stairs. There were only three rooms in the upstairs area, cheap paintings cluttered the walls, but no family pictures. Just like the living and dining area, the hallway had a faint smell of bleach. Rick opened the first door to the left of him which was a bathroom. Not seeing anything of interest, he headed for the room at the end of the hallway.

Opening that door, Rick assumed it had to be the master bedroom. The queen-size bed was right by the door; it was tidy and made with a hotel-like perfection. If Lori saw it, she would be envious. There was another bathroom to the far right of him and next to it, a closet. On the other side of the bed was a single nightstand with lamp. The room wasn't heavily decorated, Rick stepped over to the two dresser drawers on the opposite side. One of the drawers' surface was covered with picture frames containing family photos.

Rick picked up a black and white framed one which showed a Carol in her late thirties with dark auburn hair. She carried in her arms a baby wrapped tightly in its blanket. Beside her another woman, older, but with the same auburn hair had her arm wrapped around Carol's shoulders, both women had bright genuine smiles on their faces. Rick put down the frame and observed another photo, this one of Sophia. Her flaming red hair flying behind her like a cape in the wind as she swung on a swing. There were more pictures of Carol and Sophia with various family members. But what struck Rick as odd yet understandable was that none of the pictures were recent. Sophia's picture had to be the most recent, but she looked to be seven or eight in the photograph. And the odd fact; Ed Peletier were in none of them.

Rick moved over to the next drawer that had papers and envelopes scattered about. He leafed through them, identifying them as bills. Most had past due and final notices on them with bold lettering. More paper stuck out at the corner of the top drawer, Rick pulled it open, greeted with more bills. _Was Ed working?_ And if they had this much debt why wasn't Carol working as well? Rick looked at the dates of some of the bills and most had accumulated within the last year. He sifted through the stack and pulled out a bank statement dated this past January. Ed only had $43 in his checking and $205 in his savings.

Rick read another bank statement dated in March:

 **Deposit: $4999**

 **Deposit: $4999**

 _So, in March, Ed was able to deposit close to $10000 and made sure both deposits were under $5000 so not to raise the local credit union's suspicions._ He opened up his notebook and wrote down his observations, Rick then sifted through more paper and found two more bank statements with the same dollar deposits in April and May. But, a June bank statement showed that both his savings and checking accounts had less than a hundred dollars in them. Yet there were still bills from those months with past due amounts that hadn't been paid down or paid off. _Where were you getting this money from Ed?_

He placed the bank statements and correlating bills onto the bed, moving back to the drawer, his foot kicked an object making it slide under a chair. Bending down, he reached for what looked to be another picture frame. Within his grasp, Rick stood up and turned it over; the glass was cracked but he could still easily identify a very young, late teens Carol, this time with the same long, flaming red hair as Sophia's. Her face was full and she wore a plain white gown showing her heavily pregnant figure. Beside her with his arms wrapped tightly around the back of her neck was the former Ed Peletier at his peak. No beer belly and rugged, he had a smirk fitted on his face. The photo had to have been taken on their wedding day, but Ed didn't bother to dress up for it. Rick viewed Carol's face, her smile didn't match her sad eyes. A marriage born out of inconvenience.

Rick laid the picture face down on the papers next to a watch. The watch was plain, unassuming, and familiar. The same tingling sensation that he had when Carol first appeared in front him, presented itself. Rick's hand hovered over the object like it was coveted treasure and he didn't know whether to pick it or leave it there.

"Hi."

The small voice startled Rick, he turned around to see Sophia standing by the door.

"Hi," he replied. He put his notebook in his suit pocket and took a couple of steps towards Sophia. She held tightly to a raggedy Ann doll in her arm and the other to the door frame. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine."

"That's good." Morgan and Carol's voice could be heard from downstairs, their whispers echoing through the small home. Rick pointed to Sophia's doll and smiled, "I haven't seen her in a long time, Raggedy Ann was quite the popular doll growing up."

"It was my mom's." Sophia stepped further into the room, her head now resting on the door frame as she casually played with the doll's yarn hair. Her demeanor was the opposite of Carl, Rick figured she had to be his age or maybe a year younger, but she was painfully shy and quiet. "She tells me that as long as I have it nothing bad will happen to me."

Rick's brows furrowed, he observed the little girl's visible arms and legs for any bruises, but he saw none. She looked up, meeting Rick's eyes, her own sad expressive blue ones told him that she's seen things no child her age should have to see.

"I should have given her to daddy," she muttered.

"Sophia, we'll find the bad man that hurt your daddy," Rick kneeled down and held out his hand. She eyed his hand and then his face and back to his hand again. After a moments paused, she placed her own hand in his.

"Daddy was a bad man too."

 _Yeah, he was_. Ed Peletier was a piece of shit who abused his wife and child. Rick didn't forget how he wanted to put a slug in between Ed's eyes last week.

"Sophia, did your dad have any friends that would come over? Anyone that he was really friendly with?" Rick asked. Kids were observant, he knew that firsthand with Carl, they saw things that adults overlook or didn't think they would notice.

"Yes. Donny, Kyle, um," she scrunched up her forehead, "this bald guy and Negan."

Rick pulled out his notebook again and a pen, he knew of Donny and Kyle, they were truck drivers for King's County Steel Co. He scratched his head, any bald men in this small of a town would stand out and there were maybe four of them and out of those four, Rick knew one of them worked at the Steel factory as well, but he couldn't put a name to the face. And then Negan.

No one in town went by that name yet it was a name that Rick felt he heard before. A name that he may have even thought about or said aloud.

"Negan? How long has he and your dad been friends?"

"I don't know."

"Did he come over to the house?"

"Yes, but he was leaving when me and mommy came home."

"Could you tell me what he looked like?"

"Taller than daddy and bigger, but not like fat big, like strong big. His hair was black and he smiled a lot."

 _Negan. Fuck_. Rick stood up sighing, his instincts were screaming at his brain to conjure up a memory or to remember a detail he pushed down, but instead he was drawing blanks.

"Did you see him often?"

"No. Just that one time."

"Do you remember if you overheard your daddy and Negan say anything to each other?"

"I don't remember. Mommy told me to go to my room. But—." Sophia stopped herself, her eyes watered making Rick scoot closer to her.

"Hey hey don't cry." He brushed her face gently, wiping away the fallen tears.

"Daddy and mommy argued that day, something about money and then daddy hit her in the face." Sophia cried harder, her little body shaking, "He kept hitting her until she stopped moving. I thought—." Sophia collapsed into Rick's arms as she wailed. Rick held her and rubbed her back, rocking her back and forth to get her to calm down.

"Sophia?" Carol appeared at the door, anger in her eyes when Rick looked up. "Come here, now!" Rick let the little girl go who wiped her own eyes and nose, she sauntered over to her mother who quickly moved her to her side, burying Sophia's face from Rick's view. "You need to leave," Carol said to Rick.

"Carol…"

"You have no right," she spat, holding up a finger to Rick's face, she looked to be on the verge of crying herself. "You have no right to question my daughter without my being present. Leave."

"Listen, I'm sorry for last week. I'm sorry. I just wanted to help."

"I don't need your help."

Rick shook his head, knowing that to be partially true. Carol didn't need him, but he hoped she'd find help from others. Ed may be gone, permanently, but the pieces of her and her daughter's lives needed healing. "You have a bright daughter. Take care, ok."

Carol nodded, refusing to look Rick in the eye. Rick sighed, turning around on his heel and headed back downstairs where Morgan waited by the door.

"She still hates you huh?" Morgan asked.

Rick didn't answer, instead, he walked passed Morgan and left out the front door.

* * *

"Making little girls cry now?" Morgan asked.

They were driving from Carol's home to wherever the next destination Morgan had in mind. Rick rolled his eyes and yawn, his body reminding him that he only had a couple hours of sleep and was now running on fumes.

"Can we stop for some coffee?"

"Sure thing, we can go over some notes while we're there."

Rick nodded and pulled out his notebook, and the papers he took from Carol's home.

"What are those?" Morgan gestured his head to the items Rick held.

"Clues, possible evidence as to why Ed got his head smashed in. The man was in debt, but for a few months, he was depositing 10000 dollars in cash to his checking account."

"Hmm… borrowing money from someone."

"Definitely. But, not using the money to take care of his family."

"Carol didn't or wouldn't tell me much. She said they weren't having money problems."

Rick scoffed, "That's a lie," thumbing through the stack of bills he had in his hand. "Sophia mention a 'Negan' came by their house one time."

Morgan shifted in his seat, Rick waited for him to inquire who this Negan person was, but instead Morgan focused on the road. "I think this Negan guy was the one giving Ed the money," Rick continued.

"Interesting."

 _Interesting. That's it._ Rick folded up the papers and placed them back in his notebook, he yawned again. He wanted to sleep, but not before hearing Michonne's voice again. He started to wish she was in the car with him, helping solve Ed's murder. His perfect partner in love and business.

"I think your friend Michonne might have conned me," Morgan chuckled lightly.

Rick frowned, "What do you mean?" He asked defensively.

"I don't mean it in a bad way, just that I really don't think the information she gave me about the Atlanta murders is related."

"The man's head was eviscerated, sounds pretty related to me."

"Well, I called the detective that handled the case and he seems to disagree. A Detective Blake."

"Of course, he'd disagree, no cop wants to admit they put the wrong person in jail."

"I'm just saying, it was a valid effort on Michonne's part, but she probably shouldn't rely so heavily on Ed Peletier's murder being her golden goose."

Morgan parked into King County's dining parking lot and turned off the car engine. "Could I look through the copies, she gave you?" Rick asked in a curious tone, he smiled, "I spent the weekend catching up with her instead of looking at the case, just curious as to what she gave you." Rick didn't buy for a second that the murders weren't related, his instincts yelled that something was fishy.

"They're behind you in the back seats."

Rick turned and viewed the stacks of vanilla folders sitting on the backseat floor, he grabbed the first one and flipped it open.

"You coming inside?" Morgan asked while getting out the car.

Rick didn't look up, he started reading through the file report on a Dwight Gibson, "Give me a minute," he said. He then heard the car door shut and briefly looked up to see Morgan walking to the diner. Rick's eyes then turned back to the papers.

 _This Dwight had a steady job for a decade until a year before his death_. Rick sifted through more information on Dwight and his wife, Sherry. They were both busted for possession of meth, sixteen months ago, but got off with probation and a court order for rehab.

Rick scanned through a court transcript:

 **This is my client's first offense, he has agreed to seek rehab and recently has been hired as a cook at a bar called 'The Sanctuary.' His boss, Negan** **Sallone is offering his services to be Dwight's sponsor.**

 _Negan_. Rick's eyes widen, he quickly looked up and saw Morgan nowhere in sight. Pain pounded in the center of Rick's forehead, forcing him to shut his eyes tightly. He felt dizzy, rolling down the window, the hot humid air did nothing for him. Rick breathed in and out, trying to relax as his mind went elsewhere.

* * *

 _The ringing in his ears made him deaf to other sounds surrounding him. He blinked his eyes a couple of times clearing away the blurriness. Rick felt a consistent pounding in his forehead and liquid trickling down the side of his face onto his neck._

 _He didn't want to move, if he stayed still and closed his eyes the pain would subsequentially ease, so he thought. Another explosion rocked the ground, smoke rose and darken the blue sky. Rick tried to think back to what was happening moments before he blacked out. The saviors poured into ASZ, he was getting those who decided to stay and fight, towards their positions and then he saw Abraham and Michonne under fire._

 _The thought of her was the adrenaline shot he needed to start moving. Rick turned onto his side, the pounding in his head was relentless. Beside him was a dead savior, Rick's hand went for his colt, but his holster was empty. It then searched a little to the side and pulled out his knife. Reaching over to the dead man, Rick stabbed the knife into his skull ending the man's chances of reanimation. Rick scanned the ground for his colt python while shots fired around him. He spotted his weapon under bits of rubble._

 _Picking it up, he stumbled to his feet. Rick tried to stand up all the way, but there was a sharp stabbing pain in his gut. Breathing hard he took a step and then another until he had to stop and hunch over, clutching his stomach. Rick took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the smoky air and thankful that they were okay for now._

 _A short stumpy man with thinning hair carried a shotgun and was aiming it at one of the unarmed Alexandrians. Rick ended the man's attempt, firing a shot to his head. Trying again to stand straight, Rick gritted his teeth. She was with me. His eyes frantically searched around him until he saw her. Rick's heart raced and he felt another sharp stab in his side while he moved faster. Michonne was on the ground motionless._

 _"No, no, no," he choked out. His legs moved faster and his hand reached out to her. Right when he was inches away from her, he felt a hard shove that lifted him from the ground. He watched as the distance between him and her grew and then felt more searing pain when his head and back bounced on the ground._

 _"You stupid motherfucker." Hard blows rained down Rick's head and face, he tried to aim his gun at his assailant, but he knocked it out of his hands. "I let you fucking LIVE!" PUNCH "And this is my fucking thanks!" PUNCH. "Fuck. You."_

 _Rick blocked one of the blows and threw one of his own which connected. Rick's assailant screamed more obscenities. Rick kicked the man in the groin forcing him off. He looked over to where Michonne was still lying. Rick's worst fear started to creep into his brain. I can't do this again. Not her. Rick heard his assailant laughing, he looked at him, both men were breathing hard, trying to catch their breath. The man wiped the blood from his nose with a smile. His gleeful expression enraged Rick, making him tighten his fists._

 _"I will kill you Negan."_

 _Negan tried to tackle him again, Rick planted his feet to the ground to prevent from being lifted up. Negan shoved into Rick's waist and stomach which knocked the breath out of him, but he barely budged, throwing punches at Negan's head and back. Rick was determined to win this fight._

"Rick! Rick!" Rick was being shaken violently awake.

"Get off of me!" He yelled. Rick was no longer in Alexandria, but back in Morgan's car. Sweat beaded down his head and neck.

Morgan moved back, "You can't be sleeping in a hot ass car, Rick. You barely rolled down the window."

Rick stumbled out of the car feeling nausea wash all over him. He needed to make sure Michonne was okay. He needed to hear her voice because there was no denying what he experience was a memory, possibly a clue to what happened to them.

Rick ignored Morgan and pulled out his cell. He walked to the edge of the parking lot and took off his jacket, loosen his tie while the phone rang.

It rang four times then he heard her voice.

"Michonne…"

"I'll call you back as soon as possible." It was her voicemail greeting. Rick hit END on his phone and dialed her number again. His hands were clammy as he clutched his phone.

It rang once. Then twice.

On the third ring, it picked up.

"Hello?"

Rick's mouth dropped and he swallowed hard. The deep baritone was that of a man and not Michonne.

"Hello," the man repeated.

"I'm trying to reach Michonne," Rick said, trying to keep his voice calm.

 _This has to be Mike._ There was a long pause on the other line. The only sounds were Rick and Mike's breathing.

"Michonne's not available."

"When will she be available," Rick tried to leave the edge in his tone out to no avail.

Rick heard him chuckle, "Wow. She's not available as in she's a taken woman. My fiancée. She's about to be a married woman buddy so hang up the phone and lose her number."

If Mike was in front of him Rick would have been punched him, but he was powerless and numb in this moment.

"I need to talk with her."

"You're not even going to pretend I don't know what I'm talking about?" Mike asked incredulously.

"This is important, it's about her trial, I have some information she needs to know…"

"I knew it!" Mike laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I knew it had to be someone she worked with… if you have such important information, you know how to contact Christie or that other dude unless you are that other dude. Do not ever in your life contact my woman again, you hear me?

Rage bubbled in Rick's heart, "Michonne doesn't belong to anyone. She made her choice and it isn't you," he said, no longer wanting to hold back his tongue.

There was silence on the other line. After a moment's pause, Rick couldn't even hear Mike's breathing. Removing the phone from his ear, Rick viewed it and saw that the call had ended.

Rick paced back and forth, he saw Morgan keeping his distance which was good. Rick had too many questions and no one seemed interested in providing answers. Something screwy happened to him and Michonne and his only lead were to a possible murderer. Rick felt like he didn't have many options, he needed to contact Michonne, soon or he will be heading to Atlanta come hell or high water.


	12. 1013

**Chapter Twelve: 1013**

" _Get her on the table over there!"_

 _Michonne turned her head to the voice, but she could barely hear the woman's words. All the sounds around her were dull except for the ringing in her ears. Cold crept over her body, she felt static sensation through her fingers and toes._

" _Stop! You're in my way."_

 _She wanted to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy. Her lips stuck to each other like Velcro. The ringing. Michonne wanted to sleep, but the ringing._

" _Michonne, hun, open your eyes for me? Michonne?"_

 _Michonne heard her, but she couldn't or wouldn't. She was tired and just wanted to sleep, but the ringing. She moved her head forward, trying to sit up. The pain, searing hot stings in her head as if there was a knife scratching at her brain. It ripped her lips apart as she screamed._

" _Michonne! Lay back down, don't move. Glenn! Help me!" Michonne couldn't feel the hands that touched her, now she felt even colder as if she was being baptized in ice water. But not even the cold could take away the pain; at least the ringing was gone. Now, she can sleep._

* * *

 **Tuesday Morning**

"Dad, please? She's your best lawyer and a friend… Are you kidding me! Daddy… I'll… I'll call you later, Michonne's waking up…"

Michonne opened her eyes to a blurry and distorted room. She sighed, waking up in strange places was becoming tiresome. With her vision clearing up, she viewed the plain white walls and various hospital equipment surrounding her bed.

Christie came into Michonne's focus, putting her cell in the back pocket of her figure hugging jeans. Her heels clicked on the tiling when she walked over. Michonne inhaled the light floral scent of Christie's perfume as the other woman leaned over her.

"You're awake," she said, stroking Michonne's locs away from her face.

Michonne wanted to cry, but holding it together seemed like her best bet. Using her arms strength to sit up, pain from her injured hand shot through her arm, she winced sucking in air and leaned back onto the pillows.

"Christie, water, please?"

Christie nodded and left her view. _What the hell have I gotten myself into now_? Her hand throbbed and was wrapped in new bandages. In her other hand was an IV line, she slid her finger over it.

"Here," Christie said, she held a straw to Michonne's lips. Michonne sipped the cool water until the cup was empty. The water cleared her senses and hydrated her throat, she coughed a few times and licked her dry, cracked lips.

"I want to see my son," Michonne said. She blinked rapidly, preventing tears from falling to her cheeks. Andre was her source of happiness and she needed to have him in her arms.

"Mike was here earlier, but he left. I'll text him." Christie reached for her phone and began texting away.

"I need to get out of here too… the trial—"

"Postpone," Christie interrupted.

Michonne jerked her head towards Christie, the frown on her face slowly relaxed, realizing she shouldn't be surprised by this news. Closing her eyes, she took slow deep breaths, trying not to think about how being here was another setback to her career.

"It'll be okay. Dad will probably sternly advise you to hand the case to Zack or Miranda." She dragged a chair over to Michonne and sat down. Christie sighed and look at her phone, "Mike hasn't responded."

Michonne's cheeks burned, shaking her head she needed a plan.

"This has to stop." She muttered to herself, pulling off the bandage that held the IV needle in place.

"What does?"

"Just… everything," she said, tossing the Band-Aid on her food tray. "What is that?" She asked, pointing to the tray.

"Your delicious…" Christie lifted up the food cover, "breakfast of dry toast, cold scrambled eggs, and…" she lifted up a piece of bacon and took a bite, "soggy turkey bacon."

Michonne didn't think she had it in her to laugh that day, but a small chuckle emitted from her mouth. "I've eaten worst."

"Here then." Christie handed Michonne the slice of bacon in which she took a bite from it. Quietly chewing on the piece Michonne still contemplated her next move.

"I need to get out of here," Michonne repeated. She slowly removed the IV needle from her hand, gritting her teeth from the stinging pain.

"Jesus, Michonne, you have to do that in front of me?" Christie whined handing her tissue. Michonne wiped the droplets of blood and planted her feet down on the cold floor.

Using her uninjured hand, she tried to stand up, but her knees buckled forcing her to sit back down. Without being asked, Christie left her seat and held Michonne's arm.

"I got you," she said. Michonne stood up again, leaning most of her body weight onto the other woman.

"Thank you." Michonne shook each leg trying to get solid feeling back in them as they walked to the bathroom. "Imma use the bathroom, put some clothes on, and then discharge myself."

Christie's eyes widen and Michonne caught her look from the corner of her eye, but the younger woman didn't say anything. "Christie?" Michonne stopped making Christie stop with her.

"You can't discharge yourself," she said quietly, averting her eyes. Michonne tried to move away, but her legs would not cooperate. Christie tightened her grip on Michonne, "You're under a 48hr hold… for a psych evaluation." Christie frowned, "I'm sorry."

Michonne bit her lip and wiggle herself from Christie's grasp, grabbing the bathroom door to keep her balance. "Who admitted me?"

"I don't know, they just told me a social worker saw you last night and made the call. They barely even let me in here, I had to tell them I was your lawyer."

"Give me a minute," Michonne walked slowly through the door. "Get Mike on the phone so I can talk to him," she demanded before closing the door.

 _Jesus._ Michonne held onto the sink trying to grasp the gravity of the situation she was in. Taking more deep breaths she stood straight up and examined herself in the mirror. _I look like hell._ Whoever cleaned her face did not do a thorough job; she still had clumps of mascara coating her lashes, her foundation still on her face making her look ashen and her chapped lips were stained red from her lipstick. _I look crazy. I am crazy._

She felt as if she prophesized this happening eventually. How was she able to act as if nothing happen when each day she was getting hit with proof that something happened to her? Not only that, but the visions and dreams weren't ceasing. Turning on the faucet until the water was mostly hot, she splashed her face again and again. No face products but Michonne didn't mind the soap that was available. She lathered her hands and cleaned her face.

Drying her face, she looked around the sink. No toothbrush or paste. Michonne was already frustrated, but the lack of those items was triggering irrational anger in her; she just wanted to go home. And each day, home became Alexandria and all of its issues and problems. Michonne sat on the toilet wanting to scold herself for that desire.

 _You're being so silly_.

* * *

"You have any lotion?" Michonne stepped out of the bathroom after a hot shower, the towel she wrapped around her body barely gave her any modesty, but she didn't care. Christie looked through her purse—a new expensive purse—and handed Michonne lotion.

Michonne sat next to her and moisturize her face, arms, and then legs. She felt somewhat refresh and herself.

"What's the plan boss?"

"On the phone, earlier, your dad is my boss?"

Christie jolted upright, "Mich—." She closed her mouth upon viewing Michonne's frown after a few seconds of internal thinking Christie spoke, "Yes and he's really pissed at you."

 _She's a trust fund baby, but loyal as hell to me._

"I fucked up… again," her shoulders hunched.

"I mean the passing out in court was excusable, but—."

"But, I was in the middle of downtown Atlanta raving like a freaking lunatic." Michonne stood up, her towel slipping halfway off her body, making her readjust it. "Do I have anything to wear?"

"There's some sweatpants and a shirt. I think Mike brought it over."

"Toothpaste? Toothbrush?"

"No. I can buy you some from the gift store downstairs."

Michonne nodded in gratitude. "Do you think…" Michonne searched through her memory bank for her boss' name, "Mr. Petrov can have me release from here?"

"Michonne, I… I think you should stay the 48 hrs." Christie folded her arms, uneasily looking up at Michonne. "But, I'll keep working on him. You've done way more for the firm than any other lawyer there, he'll cave."

Michonne rapidly shook her head, waving Christie's suggestion off. She started putting on her pants, her towel falling off.

"Michonne, if you stay though and they say you're mentally okay, it'll give my dad a little more confidence in you," Christie argued.

"The fact that I'm even being held in the first place would make no difference." Michonne put on her shirt and sat back down. She was hungry and eager for the ordeal to end. "Christie Petrov?"

Christie caught the confusion on Michonne's face. "I'm adopted," she said, flatly.

"I know," Michonne lied.

"No you don't," Christie laughed and playfully hit Michonne in the arm, "I never told you, didn't want any special favors from you just so you could move up the ladder quicker."

Michonne shook her head, "I would never use you—."

"I know Michonne," she smiled. "I know all too well hence my undying loyalty to your crazy behind."

Michonne shook her finger at Christie, "Mike?"

"He wouldn't answer. I even sent three more texts."

Michonne heavily sighed. "He's probably tending to Andre." She held her head, her instincts screamed that she was fooling herself and that something was indeed wrong on Mike's end.

"Did you tell him?" Christie asked.

"No, he doesn't know yet."

"Good, don't want to hurt a man's ego when he's holding all the cards."

Michonne looked over to Christie who shrugged. She was right, now wasn't the time for Mike to find out about Rick or for her to call off the engagement. Not when she was at her most vulnerable.

* * *

 **Previous Day**

Rick paced like a lion stuck in a cage. He was a predator and each time his eyes landed on Morgan who stood near the car, the man looked more and more like his prey. After being hung up on by Michonne's fiancé, Rick search through his phone for the number Michonne's friend gave him. It was she who told him the motel room Michonne was staying at that Friday night. Unfortunately, the woman's number wasn't in his call history and he suddenly remembered why.

 _I deleted the number in case Lori went snooping._ Rick laughed at himself, his actions were biting him in the ass. He needed to get home and he hoped that the piece of paper Michonne's friend gave him was still in his house somewhere. But first, he couldn't keep holding back his suspicions about Morgan. He stalked towards the man, cracking his neck as he came closer.

"Rick, what's wrong?" Morgan's tone uncertain, he held out his arms, mouth opened.

Rick snorted, stopping just a few feet from Morgan. Giving himself space to prevent his fists from talking.

"I can't trust Shane, my best friend for thirty odd years, but you. YOU…" he pointed his finger towards Morgan, glaring holes into the other man. "I tell you about a lead and then you play it off like I'm speaking another language."

"Rick, what are you talking about?"

"Negan," Rick hissed. "You either know who I'm talking about or you didn't bother reading the files Michonne gave you?"

Morgan stared blankly at Rick.

"Don't go quiet on me now," Rick scoffed. "The first damn piece of paper I picked up had the man's name in it. Were you confuse? Should I have spelled it out for you? N-E-G-A-N!" With each letter, Rick stepped closer to Morgan who didn't move, not even flinch when Rick was right on his face. "What are you not telling me, _friend_?

Morgan took a step back and sighed, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Rick grimaced, narrowing his eyes as if it'll help decipher Morgan's coded words. "What won't I believe? Do you know Negan?"

"No," Morgan said quickly. "I didn't… I didn't read the files your friend gave me," he hung his head down, his shoulders curled forward.

Shaking his head, Rick paced in a circle and then stopped. "What won't I believe?" Rick repeated his question, Morgan was a human enigma, no matter how many stories from Rick's childhood he told him, Rick still didn't know who he was.

Morgan met Rick's eyes, Rick could tell he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. No longer had the cool persona Rick only known of. "I'm trying to help you."

Rick restrained himself, his fingernails biting into the palms of his hands, a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "Don't you think telling me the truth would be of some help?" He asked; his voice strained, his words stilted.

Morgan glanced around uneasily, his lips tightly pressed together. Rick waited. Morgan stared at the ground and then to him. "I'm not keeping anything from you about this investigation. That is where our focus should be," Morgan walked backward, keeping his eyes on Rick. "I'm sorry Rick if you feel I'm hiding anything. I'm not, just didn't think listening to your mistress' wild theories would have been of any help to me and for that I was wrong."

 _Mistress_. The dig didn't go unnoticed by Rick, but people from inside the diner were coming outside, pretending as if they didn't come out to watch another show Rick Grimes was putting on. Rick gave Morgan a hard stare as the other man managed to back his way to the driver's side. Rick roughly opened the passenger side, taking his jacket and wallet and then slammed the door closed. He then tried to open the back door.

"I want to grab Michonne's files," Rick declared. He then bent down so Morgan could see the anger flaming from his eyes, "since you have no need for my mistress' thangs," he seethed.

"You going to walk, carrying that?"

The locked popped, Rick opened the door and grabbed all the files that were sitting on the backseat's floor. His hands were full so he didn't bother to shut it, instead, he ignored Morgan's question and began walking home.

* * *

 **Tuesday Afternoon**

The handle on Michonne's door shook making her quickly stand up. It was way past noon and Christie had left over an hour ago. No one had come to see her since then, she was starting to wonder if she was in a prison hospital. The door opened and in walked a woman who was small in stature and plump. Her black hair was neatly tied into a low bun, she turned around, her smile was radiant and the contrast between her white teeth and smooth ebony skin was beautiful. The woman's tan skirt was a little too loose, she adjusted it onto her waist and pulled her peach silk shirt over it. She held out her hand to Michonne which Michonne reluctantly shook.

"Miss Mi-shawn Cassel, hi," she said. Her voice was high-pitched as if she sucked down a tank of helium before meeting Michonne.

"Mi-Shown," Michonne corrected. The woman nodded her gratitude.

"I'm sorry about that, Michonne, sit, please, I know you have a lot of questions, as do I." The woman sat on the couch while Michonne sat across from her on the bed. She carried with her a pen and a blue manila folder. Michonne craned her neck in an effort to decipher what the folder contained, but then quickly relaxed when the woman looked up at her. She wrote for a few seconds and then set her pen down.

"My name is Doctor Linda Howard, I'm the leading psychologist here at Emory. Before we start, I need you to sign this," she handed Michonne a clipboard with a piece of paper attached and a pen that was tied onto the top clip.

 _Right to petition…_

"You were unconscious when you were admitted here, therefore, we could not immediately give this to you, but read through it, it states what your rights are within the 48 hours that you are here. Although, after meeting your lawyer, I think you already know."

Michonne looked up at her, Linda's grinned unnerved her a bit. Michonne read through the notice three times before signing the form and handing the clipboard back to her.

"You do know my 48 hours started after my admission and not now when you finally decided to see me, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, so why did you admit me?"

"You seem to be a danger to yourself and others and we want to make sure there is no underlying mental illness before releasing you."

Michonne sighed, "I'm not crazy."

"Well hopefully, I will come to the same conclusion." Linda clasped her hands and rested them in her lap.

"And if you don't?" Michonne asked, raising an eyebrow. She was testing the doctor even though it was probably unwise.

"I'm sure you're aware of what 1013 is? We hold you for another 72 hours and considering that today is Tuesday, if it comes down to that Michonne, you won't be release until next week Monday."

Michonne internally groaned, _cooperate, be smart, and you'll be home to see your baby…. And call Rick._

"Okay," Michonne resigned.

"Any other questions before we start?"

Michonne shook her head. Linda pulled out another form from the folder and sat back on the couch, she crossed her legs at the ankles and tugged her skirt up again.

"Does anyone in your family have a history of mental illness?"

"No"

"How often do you smoke?"

"I don't smoke."

"How often do you consume alcohol?"

"Casual drinker, maybe once or twice a month." Michonne ignored the fact that she drank more in the last week and last night than she ever had before.

"Have you ever had the experience of hearing people talking to you or about you when no one was present?"

 _I use to talk to my dead boyfriend. It happens…_

"No," Michonne said firmly. The back of her hand where she removed her IV began to itch, but she ignored it, keeping eye contact with Linda who nodded and wrote on the form.

"Who were you angry with last night?"

"No one."

"What kind of visions were you having last night?"

"None."

Linda paused and studied Michonne who continued to stare blankly at her. She then looked back down at her paper.

"Have you ever had a period lasting at least two weeks when you felt depressed, sad, or hopeless day in and day out?"

 _I was just another monster. Me. I was gone for a long time._

Michonne opened her mouth and paused. "No," she said.

"Have you felt as if you wanted to die?"

"No."

"Have you attempted suicide?"

"No."

"Do you have a tendency to worry excessively about minor things, and are you unable to stop yourself from worrying throughout the day?"

"Yes."

Linda looked up, surprise, "What do you worry about?"

Michonne gave in and scratched her itch, "I'm a lawyer, defending a man on trial for murder. Worrying about little details even if to some they seem minor, it's part of the job."

Linda nodded and wrote some more, the sound of her pen scratching the surface of the paper increased Michonne's paranoia. After a few minutes, she looked up and beamed, "Okay, let's stop for now."

It was Michonne's turn to be surprised, the questioning lasted less than ten minutes.

"I know you're probably thinking _is that it_?" Linda said and then chuckled. Standing up and clutching her items in her arm, "But we have time tomorrow to figure out a solution to making sure what you went through last night, does not happen again. Okay?" She walked to the door and knocked on it twice, Michonne watched as the door opened and another woman wearing nursing attire held the door open. "Also, I want to give you tonight to think about the questions that I asked you today because I'll ask them again tomorrow and this time… Michonne, I need you to be truthful."

Michonne's eyes narrowed, she opened her mouth to refute the doctor's claim that she was lying, but then closed it. She knew all too well there was no point in arguing.

Linda closed the door behind her and Michonne heard a click afterward.

 _Give me time to think. I don't want to think anymore._ Michonne laid down on the bed and tucked herself into a cradle position as the loneliness began to circle around her.

* * *

 **Last Night**

He searched all over his car, through the dirty laundry, through the bills and notes on the dining table and upstairs office, and he even looked through the trash. Desperation not stopping him from digging past slimy eggs and dirt. Rick couldn't find the piece of paper, his lifeline to Michonne, and he wanted to kick something, punch a wall. Tension from today's events built up in his neck and shoulders, he couldn't relax even if someone offered him a month's worth of free massages.

Cleaning his hands from the grime, he dried them off on a towel and sat down at the kitchen table. Putting his head in his hands he groaned loudly.

 _Morgan. Shane. Lori. Negan. Ed. Carol. Michonne. My two lives bleeding into each other and I don't know how to fix this._

He noticed the bottle of wine from the other night still sitting on the table. Rick reached for it, disappointed that it felt nearly empty. Opening it, he gulped down the remaining contents and then tossed it in the trash.

 _She'll call me_. It was getting late, his watch read after 8:00, wherever Michonne was he'd hope she'll get in contact with him before tomorrow. But, then there was Mike. Rick groaned, he shouldn't have said what he said. Michonne never mentioned Mike being violent with her or them ever having fights until walkers began roaming. But, if Mike was anything like Rick was last week when he clocked his best friend in the face then Rick needed to know if Michonne was okay.

Rick shook his head and opened up the top cabinet where he and Lori kept their alcohol. The cabinet was mostly bare, neither of them was drinkers, at least Rick wasn't until a week ago. He pushed aside a half bottle of vodka and grabbed the whiskey. He needed something to do before he started talking himself into driving to Atlanta.

He poured out a little in the first clean cup he could find and swallowed the drink, enjoying the burn it gave his throat. Then he decided that pouring his liquor in a cup was a waste of time and took a sip from the bottle.

Rick sat at the table again where he left Michonne files, grabbing the first one he continued reading Dwight's history and connection to Negan. He downed more whiskey as Negan's name was mentioned again, this time in relation to Dwight's wife Sherry. _What a Good Samaritan, offering to be Sherry's sponsor as well._

Rick set aside the papers and laid his head on the table, his senses dulling due to the whiskey. _I'll kill you Negan_. Rick didn't know how to make out that flashback or dream, but it couldn't be a coincidence that the man he was fighting name was Negan as well.

"Rick?"

Keys were tossed in the bowl in the living room, the sound of a heavy bag dropped onto the floor. Rick stood up and trudged to the entryway.

"Rick?" Lori was now at the bottom of the stairs, she started up the stairs and stopped as she saw that Rick was behind her.

"Hi," he said flatly. His steps were sluggish, he gave Lori a half-smile as he sat down on the sofa.

"Hey." She continued staring, her brown eyes looking Rick up and down.

"How are your parents?"

"Fine. Mom and dad asked about you, told them you were swamped with work and me and Carl wanted to get out of your hair," she said. Rick frowned, Lori took off a green sweater, revealing a white tank top underneath. She removed the Scrunchie that held her hair in a ponytail, her long brown hair cascaded down her face and chest.

"Why lie?"

She sat down beside him, her body angling so that she faced him. He could see the astonished look on her face.

"Why not? My parents don't need to know about our marriage problems."

Rick chuckled, "What's two more people when the whole town knows."

"What is your problem?" She adjusted her top and dragged her hands through her hair.

"Nothing." Rick folded his arms across his chest. He could hear her breathing becoming heavier, she sighed and after a moment's pause, she sighed again.

Rick closed his eyes, Michonne lying lifeless on the ground like a broken doll forced his eyes opened. _I need to hear her voice._ His watch now read that it was going on 10. She would have called if nothing was wrong.

"Do you have somewhere to be?" Agitation all over Lori's tone.

Rick glanced at his wife of ten years. They've been together since high school and never had a serious breakup. He remembered the wedding and how uneven the church attendance looked. Lori practically had her entire lineage—5 generations of Watsons—sitting on her side while Rick only had his mother, brother, and grandparents. Yeah, there were a couple of friends of the family that attended, but between the two, Lori was the popular girl in town and Rick was lucky that she was taking his last name.

He remembered when she told him they were pregnant, after a night of lovemaking, she laid her sweaty body over his and announced that after nine months they were going to have to be quieter with their sex activities. And then the arduous ordeal of her delivering Carl, despite the hardships, they pulled through, they were happy.

 _For better or worse, right? I mean what are we going to do— hire lawyers, get divorced, and split our assets?_

"Rick, talk to me," Lori pleaded. Rick blinked and felt the tears in his eyes, felt them as they trailed down his face, and tasted their saltiness when he licked his lips.

 _Maybe there's nothing to talk about anymore._

Her last words to him.

Rick lowered his gaze, his eyes falling on his ring; the piece of jewelry that became a symbol of failure and guilt. Rick slowly moved it up his finger as it left its mark.

"Lori… I," he swallowed even though his throat was dry.

"Don't you dare!" She scooted to the edge of the couch, her eyes wide, she knew what his next words were before he said them.

"I want a divorce."

SLAP!

Rick felt the piercing sting strike his face and before he could react another one follow suit. Lori shoved him back and straddled him, hitting him all over his face, missing her target most of the time. Rick grabbed her arms, crossing them, he held her until they both were standing up.

She moved away from him, kicking the table out of her way. Rick wiped his face, glancing at his hands he saw specs of blood. He looked up at Lori, her eyes were wild and her face red.

"Why?" She pointed her finger at Rick. "Why goddamit?"

"We both knew it was only a matter of time," he said. He was out of breath, he didn't expect Lori to lunge at him like that. Rick moved behind the sofa, protecting himself just in case Lori wanted to go for round two.

"You don't even want to try," her voice hitched. She turned away from him, her shoulders shaking. She faced him again, tears ran down her face, as each second passed she cried harder. "You want to throw ten years away? For what? Just a matter of time is NOT AN ANSWER!"

Rick opened his mouth and then closed it again.

"You really think Shane and I are screwing around?" She took a step closer, wiping her face with her top.

"No. Me and Shane talked, I was wrong for that, I'm sorry."

Lori stared intensely at Rick and scoffed, "I bet you two are buddies again. Like shit never happened, but I'm the one being served divorce papers!"

"It ain't like that Lori."

She waved him off, "You men and the games ya'll play." Lori laughed and looked up at the ceiling, "ten years," she whispered. Her head then turned to him, her eyes narrowed as if she was trying to see through him, read his mind. "You're weak Rick. You would not be asking for a divorce unless you had another option."

Rick shook his head, he knew she wanted to get at him, make him lose it, but tonight wasn't the night to engage.

"It's that woman, right?"

Rick let his silence speak for him as he walked to the kitchen and gather the files. Her footsteps thundered across the floor following behind him.

"Answer me," she demanded.

"Okay," he turned to face her. "I've moved on a long time ago. Something happened Lori and I can't explain it because I don't know what that something is, but all I know is that I've moved on from you and—."

Lori swung her fist again, but this time, Rick caught it, "Don't put your hands on me again, Lori."

"GET OUT!" She screamed. Rick didn't need to be told twice, he grabbed his car keys and wallet. She followed him out the front door. He opened his car door, putting the files in the passenger seat before climbing in.

"What am I going to tell Carl?" She called out to him. She was crying and shaking like a leaf. "Did you even think about him?"

"He doesn't deserve to have two parents who hate each other," Rick said.

Lori's mouth dropped, "I… are you kidding me? I love you, Rick." She stepped closer to him, "Please don't walk away from me, from us. Rick, I am begging you."

Rick's eyes water, every time he started to think he was making a mistake, Michonne popped in his mind. He shook his head and wiped his face, "I can't Lori." He got into the car and turn on the ignition.

He slowly drove the car in reverse, watching as Lori sat on the stoop, putting her head onto her legs, still crying.

* * *

 **Tuesday Night**

" _Michonne? Do you think she hears us? Her breathing is shallow, though… Michonne, wake up!"_

"Michonne?"

Michonne slowly opened her eyes and yawned. Disappointment wash over her when she realized she was still in her hospital room; from the view outside it was now dark and the only light was coming from the bathroom and a lamp near the couch.

"Michonne?"

She turned over to face the voice calling her name, sitting up she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squinted at the shadowy figure standing at the foot of her bed.

"Mike?" His face became clearer as Michonne's eyes adjusted to the dark, he dragged a chair across the floor to her side and sat down. He rubbed his eyes and scratched at his beard and then his eyes met hers. Even in the semi-darkness she could see that his eyes were bloodshot. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that," he said. He cleared his throat and leaned back in the chair.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not," he corrected her. "You haven't been fine since you blacked out last week. Or maybe even longer."

"Why did you let them admit me," she knew he didn't have a say in the matter, but she wanted to know if he'd at least fought against her involuntary hold or like Christie, maybe he thought she needed to be in here.

"Now you know I couldn't stop that, did you know the police had you handcuffed to this bed?"

Michonne shook her head.

"They were going to arrest you and then Doctor Howard advised it'd be better to hold you for evaluation."

"I might lose my job over this."

"Who cares," he scoffed. Michonne could hear him breathing hard. "Your damn sanity means more to me than a job."

"I'm not—."

"Crazy," he said finishing her sentence. "Fine. But, you're not well and the way you acted last night, I'm scared for you. I'm scared for Andre."

"What!" Michonne's heart pounded, she moved so that she was facing him, "Mike, don't bring him into this."

"Michonne, you attacked me last night, you were out of it, in a whole other world. I'm your damn fiancé and you attacked me. How do I know you're safe to be around Andre?"

The tears that Michonne held back all day dripped down her face, "I would never hurt my baby. Don't even suggest such a thing."

"Our child. He's our child. And you and me, we're supposed to be partners."

Michonne sniffed, she wiped her tears and tried to calm herself, but the tears would not stop.

"Baby, look at me." She did as she was told meeting Mike's gaze. "I know you're doing the best you can at this moment for us, for Andre. I know you'll get better and I'll help in any way I can because we're a team."

His words felt hollow and foreign to her ears. As if there was no life, no energy behind them. She looked at him and watched as his features shifted, his skin became paler, his hair longer, and his eyes lighter. The more Mike spoke, the more he changed before her eyes until it was Rick she saw in front of her.

"I love you too much to let you go," he said.

Michonne nodded, closing her eyes. _Please stop brain_. She never felt more frustrated with herself than right now.

"Do you hear me?"

Michonne opened her eyes, relieved that it was Mike she saw.

"Yes."

"I am never letting you go," Mike said firmly. "Nothing or no one is getting between our family."

Michonne nodded, part of her felt as if there was a double meaning to his words. He stood up and gently grabbed her chin, he captured her lips with his and kissed her gently. Michonne closed her eyes tightly, trying to fight the urge to pull away, she relaxed her body, but then Mike's kiss became rougher. His tongue going down her throat, his teeth scraping her lip. After a few seconds, Michonne had enough and gently pushed him away. Mike still held onto her chin though and angled her head so that she can look him in the eye. His eyes were dark and Michonne couldn't tell if it was because of the lack of lighting or his mood.

"Michonne, do you love me?"

She flinched, she thought it was odd he would ask her that, but she wasn't going to be stupid and tell the truth, "Yes."

"I love you more."

Mike let go of her chin, only to pull her into a hug. Michonne grew limp in his arms as he squeezed her tightly. In the back of her brain, she knew Mike was off and then a chill ran down her spine, her eyes widen and then shut tightly.

 _He knows. He fucking knows._


	13. Grievances Spoken

**Recap:** Rick discovered that a man by the name of Negan could be a possible suspect in Ed Peletier's murder and that same man might be from his old ZA world. Later that night, Rick broke the news to Lori that he wanted a divorce.

* * *

 **Chapter Thirteen**

 **Tuesday**

Anytime the door rang at the Grimes' home well past visiting hours, Rick and Lori knew it was their friend, Shane Walsh behind that ring. Lori would start pulling out the spare comforter, pillows, and sheets while Rick went downstairs to see what kind of state Shane was in. Shane was usually only in two; stupid drunk or paranoid. And most of the time it was the latter; paranoid Shane looking for sanctuary in the Grimes' home because a pissed off lover transformed herself into Claude Frollo.

This time, though, it was Rick who knocked on Shane's door after an hour of back and forth debate with himself on the merits of just paying for a motel. But, being alone with his jumbled thoughts and fragmented memories made the option of staying with Shane more favorable.

"That's your fourth beer, how bout' you pace yourself," said Shane.

Defiant, Rick stopped to open that fourth beer and chugged the alcohol down his throat.

"Imma have another one," said Rick, crumpling up the can. A smug smile planted on his face.

"Oh, I forgot we've been reversin' roles for the past week." Shane's annoyance gave Rick small satisfaction.

"If this your way of gettin' me to change my ways, it worked buddy," he continued.

Rick stood at the kitchen's archway, clutching another cold beverage and fighting off sleep, he didn't believe that Shane change at all, but instead was on his best behavior trying to win Rick's love again despite not knowing what made him lose that love in the first place.

Rick sat down in the chocolate leather armchair, nursing his beer and looked unseeingly at the Atlanta Braves go into the ninth inning with the game tied up against the Philadelphia Phillies.

 _No call from her._

There were hamsters running on their wheels inside his head.

 _She could be in danger._

His mind was on edge, hating the feeling of not knowing where Michonne was and how she was doing turned knots in his stomach. He wanted to hear her voice because it was the beacon he needed when he felt lost. And he was lost.

"You okay, man?" Rick's eyes met with Shane. He wasn't okay, he didn't know what to do with himself.

"Just a lot on my mind," Rick replied. He leaned his head back onto the seat, closing his eyes and replaying his last moments with Michonne. _I should have made her stay, no better yet I should have gone with her._

"I know you don't want to hear my mouth utter her name, but what happened between you and Lori?"

Rick's lips slightly upturned, he was on the brink of laughing at his poor choices. He brought a hammer of bad news down on Lori and then left her on the porch crying her eyes out. Rick fumbled hard and he didn't think he could blame her if Lori hated him forever.

"Lori and I are—." Rick's words were cut short when a rock crashed into Shane's window, shattering the window, and landing on the couch beside him. Both men jumped up, Rick dropping his beer and pulling out his colt.

"Come out here, you son of a bitch!"

Rick's heart thumped loudly in his ear as a woman screamed obscenities outside on Shane's yard. Soon realizing that it wasn't Lori, Rick glanced at his friend, who looked uneasily out the window.

"SHANE!"

Confused, relieved, and now amused, Rick watched Shane quickly move away from the windows, scurrying past him and turning the lights off.

"Don't you think it's a little too late for that?" Rick asked, he holstered his colt and stood to the side of one of the windows. Since the lights were turned off, Rick had a better look at the wrathful woman.

She was pacing up and down the lawn, another rock in her hand. She would raise her hand to throw it, stop, lower it, and then continued to pace. Rick squinted, recognizing she was the waitress from the other day. And then the dots started to come together in his mind; she was another victim of Shane's immaturity.

"She still out there?" Shane asked, coming up from behind him.

"You lying piece of shit, get out here, NOW!"

Rick looked over at Shane and shrugged, "There's your answer." Moving back to his seat, Rick picked up his spilled beer and turned the TV off while Shane replaced him at the window. _Is there ever a dull moment with him?_ Rick poured the rest of the beer down the drain and tossed the can into the garbage. His eyes scanned over the dirty dishes and clutter kitchen counter tops until he saw the paper napkins. Grabbing a bunch, Rick headed back to the living area and tried to soak up the alcohol he spilled.

"SHANE!" The waitress yelled.

Rick frowned and rested his arm on his knee, "Are you going out there or you going to make Kyle back at the station come down here and arrest her?"

"Rick if you can go out—."

"Naw," Rick soaked up as much liquid as he could until the carpet was damp and stood up. "I've got my own mess to sort through, man up, Shane." Rick went back to the kitchen as he heard the front door open and then close.

Throwing the soiled napkins away, he wondere d if one day Lori would show up at whatever place he lived and throw rocks through his windows or worse, maybe even try to attack Michonne. He shook his head, ridding those thoughts from his mind while Lori attacking him tonight was surprising, he knew she wasn't that kind of woman. Rick touched the scratch Lori left on the side of his face, scabbed over and in the process of healing.

The front door slamming shut interrupted Rick's heavy contemplation.

"Crazy bitch!" Shane walked into the kitchen, wiping his eye. "She s pat in my face," he said. Shane's jugular vein twitched underneath his skin, Rick moved over so that he could have access to the sink.

"What did you do to her?"

Splashing water on his face, vexed, Shane shot Rick a look, "Man… I did the right thing, telling her I was done instead of going behind her back and pretending she didn't exist." Shane rubbed his wet hands through his hair and sighed heavily. "You know what?"

"What?" Rick folded his arms and leaned his butt against the counter.

"I'm tired of this town," Shane's shoulders slumped. He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs and put his head in his hands.

Rick's eyebrows raised.

"Don't look at me that way man. I've come to realize that there ain't nothing here for me, nothing I can call my own."

"You've run through all the single and some married women in town and now you ready to go? What about your work here?"

"With a recommendation from Sheriff Watson and you, I'll be working for the Atlanta PD in no time."

Rick stood straight up, his hands resting on his hips. "Atlanta?" The eerie coincidence that Shane wanted to pick up and leave King County and go to Atlanta just like Rick wasn't lost on him.

Shane grinned, "I met this girl—woman over the weekend. Stunning, sexy, and smart."

"She knows how to turn the lights off?" Rick quipped.

"I bet she does. We talked the whole weekend and not once did I think about wanting to take her home and screw her."

Rick looked at Shane in disbelief. His friend's eye gleamed with delight like a kid in a candy store.

"Okay, maybe twice," Shane continued, his sly grin widening. "She's different. I can't stop thinking about her, she's been on mind constantly and all I want to do is make her happy. You know what I mean?"

Rick knew exactly what Shane meant, it wasn't long after they met that Rick started yearning to do things for Michonne that he knew would make her happy. Sometimes he wasn't aware of it like making a decision that would affect the people he was leading was mostly done for her happiness. And sometimes he was aware, like grabbing mints when a crate of toothpaste Michonne wanted, sunk to the bottom of the lake. Even now, he created scenarios of all the possible ways he would make Michonne happy when he saw her again.

"What were you going to tell me before that psycho broke my window?"

 _Lori. I can't make her happy anymore. And I don't care._ Even after Lori's death in his old world, Rick could never pinpoint the moment he stopped being a source of happiness for her. Lamenting on the _what ifs_ over and over again until his heart grew exhausted. Now, he was given a second chance, no, a third chance yet a wave of indifference was coming at him, ready to sweep him off his surfboard of marriage and drown him. Rick just didn't care, he loved Lori, he would never stop loving Lori, but he was no longer _in love_.

Rick rested again on the counter, ready for bed, ready to seek out Michonne and start anew tomorrow, but first, he decided that there was no point in keeping this news from Shane. He'll find out anyway, but for the sake of their friendship, Rick wanted Shane to hear it from him.

"Shane, I'm divorcing Lori."

* * *

Muggy hot air that made everything stick to you like second skin greeted him when Rick stepped out of the car. Rick and Shane stood in the parking lot of King County police station, Shane with the intentions to start a day of work, Rick with the intentions to take a leave of absence. After a short talk with Shane about his fight with Lori and giving short answers as to why he was leaving Lori, Rick didn't sleep much. His body was tired, even now, his eyes dropped, but his brain wouldn't shut off.

"I don't remember it ever being this hot," Rick said, closing the door.

Shane rested his arms on the roof of the door and whistled, "Look behind you. I think I found the source."

Rick turned as Carol walked out the station, he expected her to throw him a dirty look and head towards her car, but instead, her face was pensive as she walked towards him.

"I'll be inside," Shane said. And then he looked at Rick, smirking, "I would stay and bail you out, but you gotta man up!"

Rick rolled his eyes, he stood up straight and mentally prepared armor around him for another encounter with Carol. He was confident that he knew her in his other life and despite details still muddled in his mind, he was equally confident that in the other world their relationship was also complicated.

From the corner of his eye, Shane grabbed his gear and headed into the station. It was just Rick and Carol standing awkwardly several feet apart from one another. They stared at one another, silently waiting for the other to speak first. Carol wore another long sleeve shirt still covering up the bruises that had yet to heal from her last encounter with Ed.

"Is everything alright with Sophia?" He asked with a quiet voice, hoping that his question won't set her off into another tirade against him.

Carol's face was a face of grievances unspoken and burdens that have gone unprotected. But there was also a spark of defiance, a will to not submit to a destiny of misery. "She's fine. I came to sign some forms and to speak with you."

Rick's eyebrows furrowed and then released, "Is Morgan not in yet?"

"I need to speak with _you_. It's about Negan."

Rick took a step forward, "You knew he was giving Ed money? Sophia said he came to the house one day, did Negan threatened him? Has he harassed you?" Rick fired off the questions rapidly, one after the other.

Carol moved back from Rick, holding her hand outward in a stop gestured, "I don't want to be interrogated, I came to tell you that Negan isn't your suspect." Her eyes downturned for only a moment and then she looked Rick in the eye, "He's the only one who's given a damn about my situation."

There was a thickness in Rick's throat, he had an urge to dispute that assertion, but what right did he have to take offense to her statement?

"Negan has been giving _me_ money behind Ed's back. The banks statements you read were to an account he helped set up for me," she continued.

So many thoughts and questions poured down in Rick's mind like heavy rain, he tilted his head and cleared his throat. "How do you know him?"

"When it got bad between Ed and me, I would take Sophia to a shelter in Atlanta. Negan worked at a dealership across the street and volunteered often there."

"How long have you known him?"

"Almost a year."

Rick shook his head and turned slightly away from Carol. _This can't be the same guy, a year?_ Rick searched through his mind, hoping to jargon up another memory of Carol or even Negan from his other life. Carol's story felt alien to reality.

"Negan came to your house, why?"

"I don't know, maybe because I wasn't able to speak to him for weeks. I think he wanted to make sure I was okay."

Rick faced her again and studied her features, looking for any nuances in her face that would give away a lie.

"Did you ever ask Negan to take care of Ed, for good?"

Her eyes widen with alarm, "No!" She said. "Negan giving me money was part of the plan to leave Ed. Negan even offered to help me retain a lawyer, he's not a murderer." Her voice was calm and polite, but he could feel her hard, accusing glare.

Rick ignored it, "I need his contact information, and you may not believe he's a suspect, but we need to speak with him and officially cross him off our list."

Contemplative, Carol stared off to the side, every now and then a lonely vehicle would pass by the station. For a moment Rick thought she would ignore his request until she opened up her purse, got out a pen and a scrap piece of paper and scribbled something on it.

"He's a good man," she said, handing him the paper. This time, the conviction she had earlier was lost in her tone.

A number and an address in Atlanta was written on the paper, Rick nodded his head and slid it into his pocket. "Thank you for coming to me."

A long pause was caught in between them, Carol picked at the long sleeve shirt she wore. It saddened Rick that Carol would rather suffer in the heat than show the physical proof of Ed's abuse.

"I'm sorry," she said. Her voice barely above a whisper. "For accusing you in front of your colleagues, I wanted someone to blame and I was still angry about what you did the day before."

"I understand."

Carol gave Rick a terse nod and a weak smile, turning on her heel she walked to her car. He didn't think that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship but was relieved that they weren't at odds.

* * *

Since it was Tuesday, most of the officers and employees were lounging around desks and the watercooler and a few sluggishly working on whatever tasked they were assigned to. The only one that appeared to be hard at work was Morgan. Rick saw him in a room that was once used as storage space, now transformed into Morgan's briefing room. Morgan walked back in forth from a board to a desk with papers and photos in hand. Sometimes he would stop, a frown etched on his face, arms folded with his finger rubbing against his lips, and studied the board. Rick's accusation that Morgan wasn't taking Ed's murder case seriously, seemingly proving false.

"How are you this morning, _Detective Grimes_?" That sweet voice belonged to Jenny Jones who stood by Rick's side. In her hands were a picnic basket and a big jar of what Rick assumed was sweet tea.

"I'm doing well, ma'am. And you?"

She nudged him in the side, "I told you to call me Jenny. You're making me feel old," she said, chuckling.

"My apologies, old habits die hard."

"I understand. And I'm doing well too, I figured I drop by and see where my husband will be spending his days and nights at from now on and to bring you two lunch."

Rick shook his head, "Oh you didn't have to do that. I'm not staying."

"Is Morgan working your nerves?" Jenny asked.

Rick shrugged, amazed at how correct she was despite it being a joke. "You can say that," he said, breaking into a small grin.

Jenny had an aura of cool surrounding her, she looked to be a tell-it-like-it-is woman with a soft touch. And when she laughed, she laughed with her whole body, her hair bouncing freely around her shoulders. She was a woman who enjoyed life, but if it was time to go she wouldn't hold onto it.

"Same. Switching careers and moving was a big step for him, for us. I think he just wants to make a good first impression and unfortunately that will be judged by how well and fast he solves this case." She gently elbowed Rick's arm, again, and looked at him with amusement in her eyes, "But that isn't an excuse if he's being a, excuse my French, jackass."

"He's not," Rick lied. "But, like you said a murder like this has never happened in a town like ours, so the stress isn't a surprise."

"I don't think Morgan planned on a sleepy town like this being stressful. I don't think he planned at all. Just woke up one day and decided we needed a change in our lives."

Rick turned to Jenny, "Morgan just randomly out of the blue wanted to quit the FBI?"

"I'll let him tell you the whole story, but that day was," she laughed softly. "Weird, but nice. He acted as if I died and came back to him. Been a changed man since. I think that was when he started telling me these stories about you."

Rick tried to control his face in order to make sure Jenny didn't see that her words put a knot in his stomach. 'You wouldn't understand' is what Morgan told him yesterday. Rick turned back around, he spotted Morgan walking out of the backroom and then Shane coming up from the rear.

More questions were added to an already gigantic pile of questions he wanted to ask Morgan, but Rick decided to ignore them for another day. The most pressing matter was heading to Atlanta to find Michonne and he now had an excuse. Excusing himself from Jenny, Rick motioned to Morgan to follow him to a semi-secluded area.

"Carol stopped by, we spoke outside and she told me how she knows Negan," Rick watched Morgan perk up and nod his head, staring at Rick intently. The indifference he showed yesterday, gone. Rick shared with Morgan everything Carol told him, the money, her friendship with Negan, and Negan's contact information.

"We should head up to Atlanta, ask this Negan guy a couple of questions. What do you think?" Rick asked. Morgan's stoned face soften, his eyes twinkled when he looked Rick in the eye and he broke into a grin.

"If I say we should wait, are you going to listen?"

Rick gazed over his head, his true intentions laid out like a gutted fish for Morgan to see. "No," he said, shaking his head.

"I called Michonne's office about an hour ago, a secretary picked up and said she was sick."

Rick's stomach churned, besides her hand, Michonne was healthy when he was with her not even 48 hours ago. _How could she be sick?_

"I was given a number to contact Michonne's assistant, Christie, for any questions about her trial. And—."

"Christie?" Rick—in a daze overhearing Michonne and sick in the same sentence—didn't notice Shane standing just a mere foot from Rick and Morgan. Rick blinked and then frowned, feeling as if he wasted precious minutes by not asking Shane more questions about his _new girl_.

"I need to call your… _girl_." Rick moved behind Morgan, holding out his hand and expecting Shane to give him his phone in a speedy fashion.

Instead, Shane clutched his pants pocket, protectively, shielding it from Rick's view. "Why?" His eyes darted from an exasperated Rick who looked ready to punch him in the face again to an inquisitive Morgan, patiently awaiting Rick's reaction.

"I need to get in contact with the lawyer she works for?"

"Well, I can call her."

Rick felt if he rolled his eyes any harder, permanently stuck to the ceiling will be where they stayed. Whipping out his phone, Shane made the call to the _stunning, sexy, and smart_ woman he wanted to pick up and leave King County for.

Rubbing his hand through his hair, a grin rippled across Shane's face. "Hey beautiful," he said quietly. Viewing Rick's puzzled expression, Shane's grin grew wider.

Rick stood astonished, seeing genuine happiness from Shane was a strange sight to him, but then like lightening, Shane's smile was erased, replaced with a deep frown.

"How do you know my friend's name? Shane's eyes cut over to Rick and then back to the ground as he listened to Christie on the other line. "What do you mean it doesn't matter? Christie?" Shane then stalked towards Rick, irritation etched on his face and handed the phone to Rick. He didn't wait for Rick to have the phone securely in his hand before he stalked back to his seat.

"Hello?" Christie's voice was soft and almost child-like.

"Hi, I'm Officer—."

"I know who you are," she sighed heavily into the phone. "I am going to so regret this."

"Is Michonne with you? Is she in trouble? Why hasn't she called?"

"Jesus, dude. She's not with me, she's kind of in trouble, and she hasn't called because she can't."

 _She's kind of in trouble_ was not what Rick wanted to hear. Pacing in a circle, he rubbed his eyebrow trying to keep his worse thoughts at bay. "Did Mike hurt her? Tell me where she lives."

"Look," Christie said. She sounded unfazed by Rick's frantic questions, "The rational part of me is wanting to tell you to leave Michonne the hell alone and that this weird connection, fling, ugh, I don't really want to know, should end. But, my instincts say that if you're here maybe she'll see the forest from the trees and get her shit together."

Rick's face tighten, "Christie, I need to see her, I need to talk with her, please?"

Rick really wanted to tell her it was none of her business, that she didn't have a right to dangle Michonne's whereabouts over his head, but he also knew that if he was in Christie's shoes, he would do the same thing.

"Come to Atlanta tomorrow."

"Tonight."

"Tonight. Tomorrow. I don't really care. Just meet me at Rositas, there is only one in downtown Atlanta. When you get here, text me and I'll give you the time we can meet."

Jumping through hoops just to see Michonne. Rick was tired, but he thought about their future. A future without walkers, where they can raise a family without fear. The only downfall was dealing with exes and judgmental friends and he could face those things with a smile on his face.

"Fine," he said, reluctantly.

"Michonne's fine by the way, so you can stop shitting your pants," said Christie. "See you later." And with that, Rick heard the click that ended the call between them.

"Rick?" He turned around and faced Morgan who still hadn't left his spot and most likely heard the entire conversation. "I'm going to stay here, you can follow the Negan lead in Atlanta." Rick nodded, Morgan grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him in closer. "Promise me, you'll focus on this case while you're there."

"I promise."

Morgan slowly nodded, "I'm going to call the Atlanta folks, let them know you're coming. They're probably not going to be too helpful considering they think their case is all solved up. Take care."

Morgan held out his hand, their short, yet complicated relationship making tiny steps towards improvement for now. Rick shook his hand and gave Morgan a nod of gratitude.

Rick walked to Shane's desk and placed Shane's cell on the table. Without glancing up, Shane put it in his pocket, his sour mood emanating from his face.

"I owe you a punch in the face," Shane muttered.

Rolling his eyes, Rick sighed, "Can we take a raincheck on that? I'm heading out."

Shane stood up quickly making Rick take a step back. His jaw clenching, Shane stepped towards Rick, getting right into his face. Rick's fist tighten if Shane wanted a drag-out fight right here in the station, Rick could oblige him. The two men stared at one another for what felt like an eternity until Shane's face relaxed, he smiled and then broke into riotous laughter.

"You should see your face," Shane said in between laughs.

Rick nodded his head, eyebrows furrowed, and softly chuckled. "I said I was sorry about the other day."

Patting Rick on the back, Shane picked up his bag and swung it over his shoulders. "I'm coming with."

"No." Shaking his head, Rick headed towards the door, his feet walking faster than usual. But, Shane was right on his rear.

"You can't stop me, now we can really fight it out, but it'll just be a waste of both our time. Rick?"

Just outside the station, Shane grabbed Rick's arm, forcing him to stop. Rick snorted, impatiently, the morning was turning to the afternoon and at this pace, he would be arriving in Atlanta later in the evening.

Shane huffed and shifted back and forth on his feet. "I wasn't kidding last night. I'm going with you to see my girl and to start looking for a place. I won't get in the way of whatever you're doing, _although_ , just last week we were partners."

"Yeah… whatever." Rick didn't have the energy to argue and bringing Shane along for the ride could prove useful.

* * *

The Watsons' property was twenty acres of lush greenery with a private pond and surrounded by thick forest. Lori's childhood home was a grand two story colonial-style house with a gray gravel driveway that went around the front entrance. At 21 years of age, Rick stood on that driveway with a shotgun pointed at him. Lori with laughter in her voice whispered in his ear that it wasn't loaded and her father was a harmless man. A year later, Rick stood there by himself, pacing back in forth, each step gaining him the confidence to ask that man for permission to marry Lori. Now, he had to face her parents again, not knowing if Lori had already tearfully called them up about their fight last night.

"You coming in?" Rick asked, shifting the car to park. Shane resting his head on the window lazily opened one eye and shook his head.

"I'm going to call Christie."

Rick licked his lips trying to figure out how Shane got himself so quickly wrapped up with this _Christie_ but shrugged his curiousness off. _At least he doesn't want Lori_. Rick closed the car door and made his way up the stairs. _And if Shane does, do I have a right to stop it?_ The more Rick thought about it, bringing Shane with him to Atlanta was a great idea because deep down, selfishly, he didn't want his best friend anywhere near his soon to be ex-wife.

"Dad!" Rick glanced down as Carl opened the door, grinning from ear to ear. He kneeled down just in time for Carl to come barreling into him, Rick pulled his son into a bear hug, feeling Carl's heart beating fast and strong. Rick would never grow tired of seeing his son happy.

"Glad to see you too," Rick said, pulling apart from Carl only slightly.

"I gotta show you something dad, come!" Carl tugged at Rick's arm, forcing Rick to get back to his feet. He guided Rick through the living room with extravagant furniture, tall windows with heavy pewter blue drapery, Renaissance-styled paintings, and other decorations that screamed 'do not touch'.

Rick never felt comfortable being at the Watsons for long periods of time, the house always seemed out of place as if it was plucked from the 1800s and brought into the 21st century. He was often in awe of how down-to-earth Lori was despite the pretentiousness of her childhood surroundings and parents.

"Is grandpa and grandma here?"

Carl continued to guide Rick through more rooms, "Grandma is upstairs and grandpa went hunting with some friends, he wanted to bring me along, but mom said no."

"Your mom's here?"

"Upstairs with grandma."

Great. Arguing with Lori was the last thing Rick wanted to do.

Carl and Rick headed outside, Carl still clung to Rick's arm as he guided him to a shed.

The shed looked far from an actual shed and more like an extended guest house. Carl opened the door and gestured for Rick to come inside. The room was a boy's dream, 40-inch screen TV hung on the wall, a futon right across from it. An entertainment center with practically every single video game console that was ever made and dozens upon dozens of video game titles. The room included another smaller room which was a half bathroom, there was also a mini-fridge in one other corner and a bookcase filled with comics. Lori's father always talked about how he wanted to build this for Carl, but Rick always said no. He thought it was overboard and while grandparents tend to spoil their grandchildren, Rick believed Mr. Watson wanted to highlight the fact Rick couldn't afford to give Carl the same luxury.

Rick clenched his teeth as Carl excitedly chatted away, showing him all the gadgets and electronics. His pride spurning delightful images of him tearing down everything and telling his father-in-law to shove it. But then shame came along wagging its finger at him, making him come to the realization that all of these things could be gone in a second. That in another world and life, his boy has one eye and far from the kid that's bouncing around with glee before his very eyes.

"This is cool, Carl."

"Patrick's coming over to stay for the rest of the week." Carl sat down on the futon, grabbing a comic and flipping through its pages. Rick sat next to him, he too grabbing a comic from the pile that sat on the floor.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm leaving for a bit, going to Atlanta for work."

"What kind of work."

"Police stuff."

"Does it have anything to do with that murder?" Rick eyed the top of Carl's head, Carl looked unbothered that a murder happened in his hometown.

"Yes, you're not following it?"

Carl shook his head, "Patrick's into that stuff. He said he likes to help his dad come up with ideas for villains in his comic book, so he researches murders and serial killers."

Rick frowned, one of these days he needed to meet Patrick's dad. "You're not allowed to look up stuff like that, you hear me," he said sternly.

"Dad, I won't. I promise." Carl met Rick's stare, his bright blue eyes giving Rick the reassurance he needed that Carl would keep that promise. Rick turned to the comic in hand, it was unlike any that Carl has read before."

"What's this comic about?"

"It's a manga."

Rick feigned interest, "What's a manga?"

"It's like a Japanese version of a comic book. Michonne told me to start with Akira." Rick's head swiveled back in Carl's direction, "She's this nice lady I met at the toy store."

Rick smiled, happy that Michonne and Carl hit it off in this world too. "And she reads mangas."

Carl shook his head enthusiastically, "You should meet her. Mom already has."

Rick's stomach turned, Michonne didn't tell him that she had met Lori. _What if Sunday night was Michonne's way of saying goodbye? What if she doesn't want to see me?_

"I would love to meet her," he said quietly. He leaned forward, kissing Carl on the forehead. If Michonne wanted to end their relationship, he knew she was the type of woman to be upfront.

"Carl!"

Rick groaned, hearing Lori just outside the door. Carl sighed and tossed his manga on the floor, he stood up and walked to the front door, opening it for his mother. Rick stood up as well, knowing that it was time for him to make his exit. He and Lori made eye contact, he noticed she was still wearing the same clothes from the other day and her hair was pulled up into a tight bun.

"I need you to go inside and get cleaned up for lunch."

"Mom," Carl whined.

"Don't," she said in a harsh tone.

Carl looked back at Rick, his face downturned yet hopeful that his dad will give him a pardoning, but Rick shook his head. "Go inside."

"Fine. Bye dad," Carl said. He trudged past Lori and Rick heard his footsteps until they grew faint.

Now that he and Lori were alone, tension swept into the room, thickening the air. The once spacious room now felt cramp. There was only one way to escape and he had to get past, Lori.

"Did you tell him?" She asked.

"No, I want _us_ to break the news to him." She scoffed, clicking her tongue and resting her shoulder against the door.

"I saw Shane in the driveway, invited him to come in and he pretended to be sleep."

A laugh bubbled at the bottom of his stomach, he wanted to let it out. "I don't know what that's about."

"I feel like I'm the bad guy, the bad guy who doesn't know what she did wrong."

She wasn't the bad guy, he wished he had the right words to make her believe that. "Lori—."

"Is it a crime to want your husband to be passionate with you? To talk, to just be my friend. That's all I wanted from you."

Rick swallowed, his gaze ping-ponged back and forth from her to the floor. He felt as if she was slapping him around again, this time with her words.

"Divorce would have always been the very last option for me," she continued.

"I can't do this anymore," Rick said flatly. He ambled towards Lori, it was time to go, and if he stayed any longer the tension would choke him. Lori blocked the door, her heavy breaths grazing his face, her face tightening, and her eyes growing dark. She started to shake and Rick knew in a matter of seconds she was going to erupt.

"How does she feel?" She asked, tilting her head, biting her lip, mocking him.

"What?"

"Michonne. Is she tighter? Wetter?" She took a step forward, her chest bumping into his and her lips mere centimeters from his. "Does she suck your dick better than me?"

Eyes widen, Rick gently moved Lori back, surprise that she didn't resist. The door unblocked, Rick made his way towards the car.

"Talk to me!"

Her demand was like an invisible hand, stopping him and forcing him to turn and face her.

"You think we can work it out?" Rick asked with a disbelieving tone.

Lori's face relaxed, nodding her head, she reached out to him; hopeful.

"Because I don't," he continued, watching her hope fade.

"Rick!" One last time, Rick turned to look upon her sullen face. "She'll never love you like me. She'll never be me. And when she's done with you, don't come back."

Lori rushed past him, bumping his shoulders and then, this time, Rick was the one left stunned.

* * *

 **Author's note:** I want to thank from the bottom of my hard, all of you who have continued, to follow and review this story despite the fact that my updates are never consistent. Thank you, I appreciate you guys so much!


	14. More Than A Feeling

**Recap: After a public outburst, Monday night, Michonne is admitted into psychiatric care for 48hrs. With no way of getting out until the time is up, Michonne decides to cooperate with the onboard psychologist, Linda. After a talk with Mike, Michonne realizes that Mike may know about her affair with Rick.**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **Christie's POV**

Christie sat down her phone and glanced at the bearded man with a small head. He unceremoniously invited himself to sit across from her inside _Rositas_ , five minutes ago. She cringed when his large belly bumped into the table, making her sugar honey ice tea shake. Christie calmly placed her hand on top of the glass to keep it from spilling and sighed.

"Am I bothering you?" He asked. Christie's response was a blank stare and then an eye roll. _Does he seriously have no self-awareness?_ His offensive grin dropped replaced with a scowl.

"Pretty girls nowadays, don't know manners. A man asks you a question, you answer."

Christie played with the hem of her dress and met the man's lecherous gaze. A quip was on the tip of her tongue, but she suppressed it by pressing her lips together. She wanted to take the fork she had carefully straighten and stab him in the hand. She wanted him on the ground writhing in pain because of her. A perverse smile crept on her face as she enjoyed her horror show fantasy.

"Missy, why are you smiling, you look crazy." Christie's smile dropped. The man took a napkin from the table and dabbed his profusely sweaty face and then casually tossed it back on the table. Christie sneered, her hand inched towards the fork, a slew of profanities wanting to break out of her mouth.

"Is there a reason why you're in my seat?" Shane Walsh's strong southern twang rang in her ear. Annoyance was her first emotion, she wasn't expecting him to be here, and she didn't want him here. But, she felt his heavy hands on her shoulders, and when she leaned her head back, it rested on his hard stomach. Now an extra surge of confidence swept over her, she flashed a devilish grin at the befuddled beady-eyed man who didn't seem to comprehend Shane's question.

"A man asks you a question, you answer." _Michonne's guy._ His accent was less harsh than Shane's, softer, but the grit in his tone showed that his kindness only extended so far.

The big-headed man's face redden, his beady eyes bounced left and right above Christie's head and then they fell upon her. Her smile only grew wider and she snickered. Shane's hands left her, she glanced up as he stood by her side. His nostrils flared and the vein in his neck pulsed. Her hero, she smirked, maybe she'll forget about her self-imposed celibacy tonight.

The man stood up in a hurry, his large belly once again bumping into the table, this time, spilling Christie's tea all over it and onto the bottom of her dress and her legs. She sat there for a few moments, not reacting like she should when cold liquid stains your Valentino dress. Instead, she watched passively as Shane lunged for the man, grabbing his arm, and pressing his fingers into his skin as he escorted the man out. And then she felt a hand on her arm and napkins appearing in front of her face. _Turn on your emotions, you robot!_ Christie turned her head and smiled timidly at Michonne's guy.

Maybe it was the heat or the fact that he stopped in the middle of an argument with his wife to check on Michonne or maybe she still had the picture of him smiling with that same wife and his son on her mind, but when Christie first got a good look at Rick Grimes last Friday, she couldn't see his attractiveness. But, not now, his lips upturned into a companionable smile, he had a strong nose and chiseled jaw and chin. But it was his eyes that stood out the most, they were vividly blue and as Christie looked closer, they confirmed to her that everything Michonne told her about this other world was true. Rick has been through things, have seen things, done things that didn't disappear like the rest of the other world. From the outside, he was just a cop from a small town, who had limited life experiences, but looking into his eyes, Rick was so much more.

There was movement to the left of her, a waitress apologetically cleaned up her spilled drink. The interruption broke Christie out of her trance, she mumbled thanks and dabbed at the splotches that were on her dress and wiped her legs. Shane came back, adrenaline coursing through his body, his eyes soften when they fell upon her.

"What did you do?" Rick asked. Shane shot him an indignant look.

"Nothing that you wouldn't have done… before last week, I mean." He came forward and she stood up. He grabbed her hand and Christie stepped closer, smiling brightly. She held onto his hip and pressed herself against him. _Make him feel wanted, whisper platitudes in his ear, and promise him an amazing lay._ She had a suspicion that Shane didn't know the real reason for Rick meeting her, so he needed to go.

"Can you give Rick and me a couple of minutes alone?"

Shane raised his eyebrows, his skepticism showing on his face. "Just a few minutes and then you can have me to yourself," she continued.

She rubbed his lower back until Shane's frown upturned into a smile and then his gaze fell to Rick who stood behind her. "I'm sorry Christie, my friend's paranoia seems to be rubbing off on me," he said.

She didn't know what Shane meant by that but she turned back just in time to see Rick's eyes roll. He then sat in the same seat that the boorish man had stood up from. "I saw a couple of stores, I'll see if I can buy you something you'll like."

"No. You don't have to," she said quietly. Shane gently grabbed her chin with two fingers, he licked his lips and leaned in closer to her. Her cheeks flushed, she wanted to move back, but instead she waited to see if he would kiss her. His eyes were heavy with lust and she felt his excitement. "Shane," she whispered. His breathing tickled her nose, she would have happily told Rick they could talk later if her instincts weren't screaming for her to step back. Because, looking into Shane's eyes, she didn't just see lust, but a darkness, a creeping obsession slowly awakening from its slumber, and she so happened to be its trigger.

"I'm going to anyway," he said. Shane released her chin and trapped her in strong arms and then planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'll be back."

"Ok." She moved away from his hug, fixing her hair as she went back to her chair. A quizzical expression sat on Rick's face when their eyes met.

"No funny business, Rick," Shane said. He slapped Rick hard on the shoulder. Both Rick and Christie chuckled at the joke that neither of them actually found funny.

Once Shane was out the door, silence fell between them, Christie knew Rick wanted to know Michonne's whereabouts and Christie wanted to know what was going on.

Sighing, she leaned her elbows on the table and then quickly removed them because of the stickiness from her spilled drink. She cupped her hands in her lap and bit her bottom lip, watching Rick steal glances towards her.

"I've never seen Shane so infatuated before," Rick smiled and Christie shrugged. "He's in love and from what I've heard you two only met this past weekend."

"Maybe there's something in the air. Making strangers fall in love despite themselves and… circumstances." Rick frowned and Christie knew her small dig didn't go unnoticed. She always had a childish want to poke the bear. To see how long before she made an enemy. It was Michonne who never let Christie's invasiveness and immaturity get to her if anything she recognized Christie's proclivity towards self-destruction. Would Rick do the same, she wanted to apologize, but she knew she was going to poke at him again.

"Michonne and I aren't strangers," the lack of patience in his tone and hard stare didn't surprise Christie.

She slowly nodded, "With the exception of last week, Michonne has never mentioned you before. Same graduating class at Yale?"

Rick tilted his head, smirking, "No. She went to Yale?"

"Interesting," she said quietly. What else did he not know about Michonne? She didn't want to think that Michonne, her level-headed, logical, Michonne would throw away a perfectly good relationship for something that purely physical. "Are you not married?"

Rick's jaw clenched, he tapped his finger on the table in a steady rhythm. "We're separated now."

"Separation doesn't mean you're single."

"I'm getting a divorce."

"But have the papers been signed, sealed, and delivered to the court?"

Rick's eyes narrowed, he turned his head to the line that was forming in front of the counter.

"Didn't think so," she continued. Although, Christie noticed that a wedding ring was absent from his hand. _Married men take their rings off all the time._

"I get it," Rick said his eyes sweeping back to her. "Like you said, almost two weeks ago, Michonne was in a good place and then things start falling apart for her and it leads back to me. You want answers."

Christie paused, leaning back in her seat, "I have a feeling you won't be able to answer half the questions I have for you. So, just one, well, maybe two."

His blue eyes stared intently at Christie, his gaze unnerving yet not dangerous. Christie smiled, "Do you love her?"

Rick's eyebrow lifted, he pinched his lips and nodded, "Yes."

"Don't you think that if you love someone you would do what is best for them?" She asked, Rick's mouth tighten as the two of them stared at each other. "Michonne's in a mental ward being evaluated as we speak, Rick."

He flinched, his eyes widen and his mouth slightly dropped. _You should comfort him._ Christie leaned forward, reaching across the table until her soft hand touched the back of Rick's hand. "She's ok and will be released tomorrow, but like you said, everything has been turned upside down for her and it leads back to you."

Rick glared at her, but then his eyes soften and his head hung down. He moved his hand and fiddled with his fingers. He appeared to be thinking, contemplating on his next words.

"I'm not leaving her," he said with quiet confidence. "I can't…"

"You can't because you just can't or you can't because you don't want to?" Christie said with genuinely in her question.

"There is nothing I wouldn't do for her in this world, the other world, nothing. I don't want to lose her, but if she, not you, not Mike or Lori, if Michonne wanted me to leave then I will." His blue eyes seemed to be even bluer to Christie, she didn't see the same obsession she saw with Shane. She saw desperation, but also determination and honesty. "And I may not know or remember where she went to school or other facts about Michonne, but I know her heart, and she knows mine. And we both know being without the other is not what's best for us."

"You need each other," Christie stated. Rick nodded. For once, she was at a loss for words, she felt Rick's intensity gliding towards her from across the table just like she felt Michonne's in the car the other day. She glanced away from him towards the restaurant windows and saw Shane heading towards the door. Her and Rick's little meeting was over. Gazing back at Rick, their eyes met, but it didn't seem like Rick was really looking at her, but instead in his own head.

"Rick," she said softly. "There's nothing you can do about her being in the hospital, but I'm positive she'll be out tomorrow. In the meantime, do you have a place to stay?"

"I was going to a hotel—."

"Forget it, you and…" Christie sighed, "Shane can stay with me. But you have to promise me something?"

Rick squinted, "What?"

"Please don't go searching for her tomorrow or try to visit. I know you left your wife, but Michonne and Mike are still…technically together and she's in a delicate situation. I just ask that you don't try to play hero."

Rick shook his head, "I won't."

Christie smiled, "Cool." She held out her hand and Rick shook it firmly, "Welcome to Atlanta!"

* * *

Michonne tossed and turned all night. Sleep didn't come easy for her knowing that Mike knew that she wasn't being faithful to him. How much does he know? How long has he known? Should I just lay the truth on the table or play along for a bit further? Michonne couldn't find a definite answer for any of those questions, therefore, sleep alluded her until the wee hours of the morning when her brain had enough.

Now she groggily muttered under her breath like a kid not wanting to get up for school as she heard heavy knocks on her door and then the knob turning. She closed her eyes tighter hoping that it was just a nurse dropping her off her breakfast, but then the helium voice from yesterday called her name.

"It's a little after eight, we need you to get up now," said Linda; the psychologist that held Michonne's fate in her hands on whether she would leave or not.

Michonne pulled the blanket over her head and turned facing away from Linda.

"Michonne. I'm going to leave the door open, one of the nurses is bringing your breakfast. Eat. My office's room number is 610. I need you there before 9:15."

Michonne didn't respond, she thought about the questions Linda would ask and the appropriate answers to them. She exercised her brain to see this ordeal as a job interview and Michonne always rocked her job interviews.

After a few minutes, she groaned accepting that a few more hours of sleep were not hers to take. She got up from her bed and stretched her aching limbs and brushed her teeth.

For a hospital, there was minimal noise in the hallways. Light chatter came from the nurses' station a few feet away and a woman pleaded for 'Roger' to not leave her in the next room. Michonne walked passed it and saw the woman was on TV, crying dramatically.

Michonne kept going, as she walked further the linoleum flooring stopped and replaced with plush carpeting. Michonne turned a corner and the hallway was wider and office like. She walked until she got to room 610; Michonne poked her head in, Linda sat at her desk, writing in a notebook. The blue file she carried with her yesterday, sat on top of a large pile of assorted folders and papers. A stack of textbooks was being used as a doorstop; _Complementary and Alternative Medicine for Psychologists: An Essential Resource_ was the title of the book on top of the stack.

There were more textbooks and regular books strewn on the floor and placed in four tall bookcases that line up against the wall. Michonne gently knocked on the wall alerting Linda to her presence.

"You're early," Linda said, grinning widely. She closed the notebook and gestured for Michonne to sit on the couch that was in between two of the bookcases. Michonne maneuvered around stacks of books and folders and sat down on the leather couch that squeaked underneath her weight. "I'm sorry for the mess, reorganizing my office is taking longer than I intended," she said.

Michonne only nodded, clasping her hands together and resting them on her knees. Linda did have one bookcase behind her that appeared to be the only one she tidy and alphabetically categorized. The majority of the authors were African-American and based on the titles, the books were an assortment of fiction and non-fiction works.

"How are you feeling today?" Her question grabbing Michonne's attention. Michonne gazed over Linda's attire, she was wearing black capris today and a bright orange, pink and white strappy top. She had her pen and notebook armed and ready to write.

"Tired," Michonne shrugged. At that moment, proving her point she yawned.

"The hospital bedding isn't the most comfortable in the world. You couldn't pay me a million dollars to trade in my foam mattress for the crappy padding they use in this place," she laughed, but Michonne didn't share in her amusement. Linda stopped and eyed Michonne's watchful gaze, both of them engaging in a staring contest in which Michonne won. "How are you mentally feeling?"

 _Confused yet focus_. Michonne gathered all the patience and meditated on getting through today. Andre was at the forefront of her mind and having him in her arms would give her a semblance of control if ever Mike decides to confront her.

"Sound," Michonne said flatly and leaned back on the couch, crossing her right leg under her left thigh. She picked at the bandage on her hand and hoped she could get the stitches taken out soon.

"In between the time I left you yesterday and this morning, have you experience any disorientation and/or loss of time?"

"No."

"In between the time I left you yesterday and this morning, have you experience any hallucinations?"

"No." And Michonne was grateful that her mind was preoccupied with other things that didn't involve the dead or madmen breaking into her community.

Linda hadn't opened up her notebook yet, she sat up in her chair staring intensely at Michonne. Her lips pressed tightly against each other.

"I asked you yesterday that I would repeat some questions to you and that I needed you to be truthful, correct?"

Michonne nodded.

"Well, I'm going to just ask you one," she said, finally opening up her notebook and clicking her pen. "Tell me what happened the other day?"

"I was stress and I guess my breakdown had been building up." Michonne looked at Linda who watched her impassively. She swallowed, licking her lips, Michonne decided to tell Linda half-truths. "Mike proposed to me Friday and…," she paused and let out a shaky breath. "And I wanted to tell him no, but instead I said yes."

"I understand you two have a child together?"

"Yes! Andre Anthony."

"Did you say yes out of obligation to your child?"

Michonne shook her head. "I said yes because I didn't want to admit to myself that I couldn't make us work," she shrugged, her eyes were tearing over.

Linda blinked a few times, "Is there someone else, Michonne?"

Michonne chuckled, thinking of Rick was treacherous because, before she could stop, she saw him lying underneath her whispering words of adoration and devotion. She nodded.

Linda pursed her lips, clicking her pen, she finally began writing in her file. "You can't make it work with Mike because of this other person?" Her tone and body language devoid of judgment made Michonne feel a bit more at ease.

"Maybe. It's hard to explain," Michonne admitted truthfully. That past Friday, Michonne wasn't even sure if Rick existed in this world, yet, she was still hesitant. _Michonne, I'm sorry. It happened so fast._ She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block it out. That's why she was hesitant, Michonne would never be able to see Mike the same way again, not when her memories of that day in that other world were becoming clearer.

"So that night…"

Michonne opened her eyes and wiped the tear that fell on her cheek, "That night, I felt overwhelmed by the engagement and that someone else. I don't know what happened, really, it's a blur. I remember going outside for air, I remember the musician, and then I remembered feeling guilty. Guilty that I was no longer the woman Mike thought I was and guilty that I could no longer see him without seeing his mistakes." _Mistakes he doesn't have a clue he did._

"Michonne, you attacked Mike that night, though. If you feel guilty about your behavior, why were you angry with him?"

Michonne stared blankly at the disorganized books on the shelves behind Linda. _Andre._ Her beautiful child, her baby that she felt grow in her belly was ripped away from her in the most horrific matter. She blinked back tears, trying to make the image go away.

"Michonne, we can stop now. I think there is more and I want to explore that with you." Michonne heard her, but her helium voice sounded distant.

"I need to go home," she said quietly.

Linda leaned forward, "We have all day today, go back to your room and rest."

Michonne shook her head and stood up, walking to the door, "I'm leaving!"

"You can't—."

Michonne paused by the door, her "job interview" was going south, but she couldn't care less, she just wanted to be with her son and call Rick. She turned to leave as a tall tan man was walking into the room. Michonne put her hands out to stop herself from bumping into him and he grabbed her arms.

"Excuse me," he said. His English accent made his already proper appearance more appealing.

"Jake?" Michonne heard Linda getting up, she wiggled out of Jake's grasp and stepped to the side. "What can I do for you?"

"I was actually looking for her," he pointed to Michonne. Michonne eyebrows furrowed, confused as to why she was needed. "She's free to go."

"What?!" Both Michonne and Linda spoke at the same time. Michonne eyes swept towards Linda who looked flustered.

"Michonne please go back to your room."

"He said I was free to go."

"Linda, it's court ordered."

"But—." Michonne didn't wait another moment, she spun on her heel and practically ran to her room. She knew Christie came through for her and she was elated. With a wide grin on her face, she sped walk back to her room, but just as quickly her smile dissipated when she saw Mike standing at the door. His sullen expression made her dreadful. If Michonne thought she was going to get a break today that thought soon became fleeting as she realized there was another hurdle she needed to jump through.

* * *

Michonne rolled down the car windows, letting the sun and air hit her face. Closing her eyes, she calculated that it would take about fifteen minutes to get home. Fifteen minutes of sleep and charge up. She felt Mike move to her left and then heard him take a sip of coffee. A hello, are you okay, and let's go were all Mike said to Michonne, she waited for him to rain down a bunch of questions on her head when they drove away, but for the past five minutes, Mike was silent.

"I don't know whether I should be relieved or worried that you haven't said a word in ten minutes."

Mike chuckled lightly, "Nothing wrong with a little peace and quiet." He glanced over at her, his mouth upturned into a small smile. Mike set his coffee back in the cup holder and grabbed Michonne's knee, squeezing it lightly. "You're tired, rest, we'll be home in a bit."

"Yeah," Michonne leaned against the window and did just that.

As soon as Mike opened the door to their home, Michonne heard her little man. High-pitch screams of excitement and toys crashing came from the living room.

"Peanut!" Michonne yelled Andre's nickname a second time until she heard tiny thunderous footsteps coming towards her. She pressed her back to the wall, hoping to catch him by surprise. But, Mike scooped Andre into his arms and rained kissed on his face.

Rolling her eyes at Mike's blatant attempt to block her from Andre made Michonne want to snatch Andre from him. Andre thrust his arms towards her, demanding to be held. Michonne smiled at her son, weakly, she reached to grab him, but Mike moved towards the kitchen.

"Did Uncle Terry feed you little man?" Mike asked.

Terry.

She wished she could explain to Mike why her heart pounded and her fingers curled into a fist each time his best friend was mentioned or seen. Following behind Mike and Andre, Michonne's more rational side meditated on the fact that Terry wasn't the same person from the past.

"Christie couldn't babysit?" She asked, keeping her voice light and innocent. But Mike's face tighten and he shook his head, a sarcastic chuckle escaping his mouth.

"I called my friend, Andre's godfather, not some fucking assistant," he spat.

Michonne paused while Andre threw his arms out to her, making small grunting noises as he tried to wiggle out of Mike's arms.

"Put him down and talk to me." Keeping her voice as calm as possible despite the volcano inside her on the verge of erupting, Michonne placed her hand on Mike's arm and pleading with him with her eyes. Andre grew restless and more vocal in Mike's arms, he wiggled harder, no longer reaching for Michonne, but instead his toys on the floor.

"Guys." Terry appeared from the hallway tossing his backpack over his shoulder. "I gotta go," he continued. "We hanging out later?"

Mike frowned, mulling over shots with buddies or fighting with her weighed heavily on his mind. He kissed Andre on the forehead and much to Andre's delight, he sat him down on the floor.

"We are, but I'll call you if things change." Mike and Terry did their handshake, Terry went over to Andre, but hesitated, glancing towards Michonne. She didn't say anything and she tried to keep her face neutral, but Terry smiled weakly and walked to the front door.

Bye Michonne," he said quietly.

"Bye."

Andre ambled to her, his hands grabbing onto her legs. Michonne picked him up, hugging him tightly and kissing him on his soft face and hands, she didn't want to let him go. "I missed you so much peanut." Tears stung her eyes, she wanted to stop them, but they began falling onto her cheeks. The warmth of his small body gave her the comfort she needed. "You gonna give mommy a kiss?" Andre nodded and pursed his lips, he leaned forward and gave Michonne a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She laughed, giving him more kisses until he started to protest.

Michonne eyes met with Mike, he looked solemnly at her and then shook his head. He sat down on the couch and Michonne sat down on another side of it with Andre, she grabbed one of Andre's toy train and began playing with it.

"Tawmas," Andre said. Grabbing the train from Michonne's hands and then driving it across Michonne's chest.

"Thomas! Where's Percy?" She asked, Andre's response was a shake of his head and then focusing back on Thomas the train.

Rubbing her hands through his hair, she mused over how calm her son made her feel, only one other person had that effect on her, but he was miles away. Michonne groaned and Andre mimicked her, forcing her to laugh.

"Don't mock mommy."

"Mock mommy!"

Michonne tickled Andre's stomach and under his arms, his riotous laughter filling up the tensed room. She stopped, giving her son time to catch his breath. _This was good, but it'd be even better if Rick was with us_. She hadn't spoken with him since early Monday morning and she had a feeling Rick was probably beside himself.

Mike flipped to a channel where Serena Williams was playing. Her opponent didn't stand a chance, she was running all over the place, missing serves and becoming increasingly frustrated.

"Is my phone somewhere in here?" Michonne asked.

Mike's furrowed eyebrows drew in even more, his eyes focused on the tennis match.

"Mike?" She said with more force in her tone.

"I bought you a new phone, it's in our room," he flipped to another channel where cartoon puppies were running around.

"Paw Control!" Andre yelled out, Mike changed the channel, but it was too late. Andre demanded that Mike turned back to his show. Michonne smiled as Andre hopped off her lap and stood in front of the TV, but her smile falter, she felt exposed.

"Why do I have a new phone?"

"You broke the other one."

They stewed in silence, watching the cartoon with Andre, but neither enjoying it. Michonne rolled her shoulders and stood up, Andre was preoccupied and she needed a shower. She walked past Mike and went to her bedroom. Her new phone sat on the nightstand, turning it on, Michonne noticed that Mike set up her phone. She scrolled through her contacts, all was there except for one. _Rick's number is missing._ Her stomach churned, she felt like her insides were quivering as she was faced with more proof that Mike knew. Dropping her cell on the bed, Michonne ambled to the bathroom and shut the door behind her. Why hasn't he said anything? If the roles were reversed she would have said something, anything to get the truth out of him. Simply ignoring the giant elephant between them only made Michonne worry more.

Michonne hopped into the shower, cleaning her body, but unable to cleanse her mind. Once done, Michonne wrapped herself in a towel and opened the door, startled to see Mike sitting on the bed. She swallowed, her eyes darted from him to their bedroom door that was slightly a jarred, Andre made choo choo noises from the living room, she and Mike were essentially alone.

Michonne quickly put on her underwear and a bra while Mike sat on the bed, his head in his hands. She grabbed a shirt and put it on as well, her stomach turning in knots because Mike's silence was damning.

Dressed with the exception of shoes, Michonne bit her lip, there was no point to holding it in any longer.

"I'm calling off the engagement," he spoke, his voice tearful.

"I'm sorry Mike," she kneeled down beside him and placed her hands on his knees. Tears fell down her face, "I really am sorry." He turned his face away from her and stared emptily at the wall.

"Why?"

Michonne coughed, blinking away the tears in her eyes that kept gathering, "I can't explain it without sounding crazy."

"Then try."

She paused, thinking of where to start, but for a lawyer, she couldn't articulate what happened. Mike sighed heavily and got up, moving around Michonne. She looked up and saw he held his hand out but wouldn't meet her gaze.

"The ring."

Confused for a moment, Michonne quickly understood what he wanted and removed the engagement ring, Mike gave her only a few days before. She placed it his hand, he viewed it, twirling the ring around and then stuck in his pocket.

"Michonne." He finally met her eye, his eyes were hard, determined. "I'm not giving up on us," he declared.

Michonne swallowed, "I think you have to," she whispered.

Mike scoffed and shook his head, he then walked out of the room. Michonne's lip quivered and then she sighed and then the tears fell again. She hunched over until her she was lying on the floor, she drew her knees into her chest and gave in to her sadness. Michonne couldn't comprehend the dueling emotions inside her; she loved Mike so much that she felt shame for breaking his heart, but the dreams, the memories were too strong. Every time she looked upon him, even for the briefest moment, she saw him dead, jawless, armless, and her dragging him around in chains.

"Mommy." Michonne looked towards the door, Andre moseyed over, his toy train in hand and laid down with her on the floor. Their faces mere inches from each other, Michonne studied his plump little lips, cute button nose, and his brown eyes that focused on Thomas the train. She rested her hand on his back and felt his breathing. Her perfect little boy. She kissed his soft cheek and wiped her face. A new sense of hope flowed through her veins, her boy was alive and at the end of the day, that's all that matter.

* * *

Christie had call Michonne, asking her urgently to head to the law firm. Mike was gone, more than likely with Terry and Michonne was okay with that, she had Andre. Michonne walked into her law firm with Andre in her arms, most of the employees were heading out for the day, and she saw the custodians walking about getting ready to start their night shift. After greeting some of the secretaries and security staff, she went to her office. She sat Andre down on the floor near her desk and dug through the diaper bag, grabbing all of his toys.

"We're only going to be here for a few minutes, ok baby?" Andre reached for a toy car that was in Michonne's hand, she smiled knowing that Andre couldn't care less. A knock on her door, made Michonne spun around to see Spencer.

"Hi. I hope I'm not interrupting," he came in, carrying papers with him. His face was red and his hands were shaking.

Michonne met him half way, concerned, she grabbed his upper arm to stop him, "Are you okay"

"I umm, I have some papers for you to sign, Mr. Tracinski is taking over Merle's case from you." Zach Tracinski was a capable lawyer, but he was known to settle cases, not win them, but what could she do, Michonne was in no shape mentally to be a lawyer, she needed a break. She grabbed the papers and set them on the desk. When she turned around, Spencer was right behind her, making her bump into his chest. "I have to tell you something. Not here, though."

Michonne chuckled awkwardly, "I doubt my son is going to care what you have to say."

"Please," he pleaded.

Michonne frowned, but nodded, "Just for a moment."

Andre was still preoccupied with his toys, Michonne closed the door behind her and followed Spencer down one of the hallways.

* * *

The vacuum humming in the lobby area covered the sound of Rick's footsteps. He wiped the sweat from his brow, rubbing the secretion on his jeans. The hallway expanded into another lobby, only much smaller, there were large windows on the opposite side looking out towards the sun setting over the Atlanta skyline and another hallway leading to who knows where. Straight in front of him was the receptionist desk where no one sat, he walked up to it and drum his fingers on the cherry wood furniture. Glancing at the two doors on either side of him, deciding which one he would knock on first.

Time was of the essence, Christie had promised him that Michonne would be here albeit only for a brief period. Rick smoothed his black button up down and walked to the door to his left. His stomach rumbled from a combination of hunger and nerves, it's only been a few days since he saw Michonne, but for him, it felt like weeks. Separation was no longer a viable option for him, they needed to be together, that's how they'll survive, that's how they'll figure things out; together.

Squeaky laughter from the other room halted his steps, he turned and faced the door to his left and listened for any more noise. Someone was moving around in that room, he heard a thump and then the excited squeal of a child. Rick's heart panged, the child's voice grew louder as he shouted and another thump this time against the wall could be heard. Could it be? Rick always wondered what Michonne's baby looked like, whether he had Michonne's expressive brown eyes or her smile, whether he was a splitting image of her or Mike. He knocked softly on the door and his mouth upturned into a wide grin. Rick felt like he was moments away from witnessing a miracle, in another world, the little boy on the other side of the door was gone, but in this world, alive and well and now knocking on the other side of the door.

Rick turned the knob, relieved that it wasn't locked, he opened it further and a small child appeared through the crack. _He does have his mother's eyes._ Rick smiled, "May I come in?"

* * *

"What is it?" Michonne stopped Spencer, they had walked far enough from her office, the distance making her uneasy. Her gaze swept over Spencer's pale face, sweat dripped off his nose falling onto his tie. Michonne stepped back, anticipating the contents of Spencer's stomach to spill out on the floor. "Spencer?"

"They found Daryl." He sighed. He covered his mouth, not quickly enough for Michonne to miss seeing his quivering lips.

"He's dead?" It wasn't a question, just a matter-of-fact statement. Spencer's look was familiar to Michonne, she's seen it over a dozen times in her other life, a look she was sure she wore on her own when she had to be the deliverer of bad news.

"Yeah, yeah." Spencer's jaw slacken, his eyes dull. "Umm. He, he was shot. Tied up and shot."

Michonne touched his arm, letting him know she didn't need to know more. "Has Merle been told?" Despite Merle's numerous shortcomings, he loved his brother and his brother loved him. Guilt gnawed at her heart like a parasite trying to weaken her decision to not move forward as Merle's representative.

Spencer's eyes pinched tightly shut and he shook his head. His shoulders drooped and he sighed, "I can't. Merle scares me."

His confession did not surprise Michonne, she gave his arm a squeeze, the color in his face yet to make a reappearance. This was probably the most jarring moment in his young life even though he was only a third party. Michonne pity Spencer, but her frown turned up into a gentle smile as she led him to the couch.

"You tell Zach that I will let Merle know about his brother's death." Spencer sat down, putting his head in his hands. Michonne patted his back eying the wastebasket by the receptionist desk. Her eyes were then drawn to the clock with each tick of the hand increased the chances of Andre getting himself into trouble. "Spencer, I need to grab Andre and then I'll come back and sit with you."

Spencer leaned back in his seat, sighing and rubbing his legs. "I'll be okay." He flashed a weak smile and patted his chest. He wasn't okay, but the conversation will have to be tabled for another day.

"Goodnight then." Another squeeze on the arm and a short wave goodbye, Michonne sped walk back to her office.

Daryl was dead, murdered.

Her stomach twisted into knots, something wasn't right. From the brief conversation she had with Daryl, he seemed decent, only had minor scrapes with the law and those scrapes were because he followed behind his older brother. When Merle was away he led a quiet life.

It felt like Quasimodo was ringing the church bells inside her head alerting her to wake up. Something was wrong. But, now wasn't the time to play Nancy Drew, she tried, but she needed to put herself first. She needed her son and she needed Rick.

Michonne opened her office door quickly and stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes widen and she thought she could feel her heart in her throat.

"Hey, pretty lady," Rick smiled warmly at her, sitting in one of her chairs with Andre, peacefully in his lap.

Michonne clutched her stomach, the sight before her felt as if she was dreaming. How many times did dreamed about this moment in that other world? How many times have she looked at Rick as he talked with Carl or played with Judith and thought about him being a father to Andre. He stood up, holding Andre on his hip and held out his hand to her.

"Rick." She wiped the tears from her face and tried to stop her lip from quivering, her hand slipped into his and she felt complete.

"Mommy, crying."

Rick and Michonne laughed, "I'm okay, peanut."

"Peanut!" Rick exclaimed, "I couldn't remember his nickname so I've been calling him 'pumpkin' for the past minute."

Michonne chortled, "And I bet he looked at you like you were crazy."

Rick nodded, "yeah, yeah he did." Rick moved his arm around Michonne's lower back, she rested her head on his chest and smiled watching Andre touch Rick's nose and mouth, studying him as if he was a new toy. Rick bent down and kissed her forehead. "Are you okay? Christie told me what happened."

"I'm great now. I was about to ask you how you found me, but Christie…"

"Mmhmm."

She gazed at him, his lips curling up as their eyes met. Michonne turned so that her whole body faced him and reached up to him. Her lips grazing his, he held her waist tighter, making her feel safe, secure. And seeing Andre in his arms calmed her, for the first time today, she felt she was making the right decisions. Rick kissed her lips and slowly dipped his tongue in her mouth, her tongue greeting his. Fervently they kissed, Michonne shivered from excitement as she brought a shaky hand to his face. A low throaty growled parted from Rick's lips which made Michonne pull back. Her eyes swept over to her son, who stared at her inquisitively.

"We should save that for later," she said nodding towards Andre. Rick smiled, he kissed her again on the forehead and slid his hand away from her.

Michonne gathered Andre's toys from the floor and put them in the diaper bag, zipping it closed, Andre's laughter drew her attention. Rick was spinning him around making airplane noises while Andre screamed with delight. For the first time in a long time, Michonne felt complete.

 _Everything will be okay._

* * *

 **AN: Reunited again! No more separation, but now the real drama begins. :D**


	15. Tell Me

**Chapter 15**

Droplets of cold liquid dripped onto Rick's face and down his eyes and cheeks, he tried to turn on his side, but someone or something was on top of him.

"Michonne," he croaked.

"Wake up! Wake up!"

The figure sitting on his chest was most certainly not Michonne. Opening his eyes, big brown ones and the widest grin belonging to Michonne's son, Andre, stared back at him and then Rick saw the sippy cup being tilted over and more juice poured on his face.

"Hey now!" Rick smiled, but his grin dropped soon realizing Andre would think he approved of that kind of treatment, it was too late, the little boy giggled and dumped more juice on Rick until Rick moved Andre to the empty space in bed next to him. Wiping his face, he stood up and looked around the room, becoming reacquainted with his surroundings.

For a guest room, it was spacious, it had a large walk in closet that currently only contained Rick's suitcase. Ceiling to floor windows; Rick walked over to a control panel and pushed a button, the electric shades lifted from the ground coating the room in natural sunlight. The view, in Rick's opinion, was amazing, out looking the Atlanta skyline.

"Where's daddy?"

That's a question Rick didn't want to know the answer to. Sooner or later he would have to come face to face with Mike. Turning to face the inquisitive toddler who managed to get his hands on Rick's watch and currently pulling on its band. Rick sat back on the bed beside him and picked Andre up, scooting him to his lap. Andre's legs swung back and forth as he continued to play with Rick's watch, occasionally taking sips from his cup.

Rick still found himself in awe that he was holding, sharing the same physical space as this little one. Andre was Michonne's everything and then she lost him, Rick marveled how Michonne was able to keep going, to keep living despite at that time being alone in that world. And then she decided to open her heart to his son, Carl, and then Judith. To him.

"Let's find your mommy first," Rick said. Tugging the watch from Andre's hands.

"Mommy!" Andre smiled brightly and wiggled out of Rick's grasp. Rick grabbed his shirt from off the floor and put it on over his head. Andre waited by the door, fussing with the door knob until Rick opened it for him.

"Come on," Andre ordered in his tiny voice, grabbing the bottom of Rick's shirt and leading the adult to the living room.

 _You are definitely your mother's child._

Andre didn't stop until they got to the L-shaped cream color couch and pointed to the laptop on the glass coffee table.

"Tawmas," he said.

Rick nodded, understanding what was being requested of him, "Ok." Opening the monitor, he searched a moment for anything that remotely resembled a video player icon. Meanwhile, he could hear and smell bacon sizzling from the kitchen. Andre stood on the couch, resting his body weight on Rick's shoulder and sighing in his ear. Rick found what he was looking for and noticed that there was already a DVD in the laptop, he pressed play and Thomas the train theme song played from the speakers.

"Ok, buddy, he scooted the laptop to the center of the table and pressed the 'play all' option on the DVD menu. Andre sat back on the couch, immediately disregarding Rick's presence. Rick smiled and turned towards the kitchen.

Many mornings ago, Rick would enter the kitchen to see Michonne cooking up breakfast for the household. And just like those other mornings, Rick leaned against the counter and watched her, humming to herself, sometimes moving her hips to a beat only she could hear. Those were the best mornings.

Currently, Michonne clad in a yellow maxi halter dress closed the fridge and moved back to the stove, her toned arms flexed as she placed more bacon in the pan.

He glided behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist and moved Michonne away from the hot stove. He kissed her from her elegant shoulders to her neck, reveling in her quiet giggles.

Not letting him distract her, Michonne used a fork to scoop the cooked bacon onto a plate covered in napkins. Beside that plate was a stack of pancakes, freshly made you could still see the steam coming up from the one on top. Rick pushed himself against her backside, letting her know without words how happy he was to see her this morning.

"Rick…," a soft _no_ on the tip of her tongue, she nodded towards Andre who scooted closer to the laptop. Rick grinned into Michonne's neck and as soon as Michonne turned the stove off and sat the pan down, he turned her around to face him.

"I miss you," he said. He kissed her lightly on her lips and then attacked her neck again, nipping at the soft skin. He smelled warm vanilla on her. "Why didn't you stay in bed?"

"Andre doesn't care if you're tired, if he's up, I'm up, and I had a weird dream I needed to shake off."

Michonne pushed back enough to force Rick to meet her eyes.

"And… what I need from you is to set the table. Christie should be up by now and we owe her." She smirked, reaching behind her for the plates of stacked pancakes and bacon and handed them to Rick. A lazy grin spread across his face as he walked to the dining table.

"At least tell me about this dream?" There was a stack of plates already on the table, Rick sat down the food and picked up one of the plates. He had never met a young person who already own a set of fine china dinnerware, let alone several sets. And in all honestly, Rick wasn't surprised, everything in Christie's condo seemed expensive. After a few moments, he looked over to see Michonne pouring orange juice in sparkling glasses. "Michonne, what was the dream?"

She shook her head and briefly smiled, "I don't know if it was a dream or a memory, but I was sitting with another woman. Brown hair, tall."

"Lori?"

"No. Younger, I think her name was Megan or something like that, but we were friends, we were close." Michonne's eyes withdrawn as she lost herself in the remnants of her dream. "The dream was all over the place, but the one thing I remembered was her asking if I had an opportunity to go back to the way things were before, would I do it and…" she trailed off, shaking her head again, Michonne's eyes swept towards Andre who made his way to Rick and was now staring at him curiously, a sly grin on his face.

"Would you?" Rick asked. His eyebrows drew in and his tone light.

"I said yes in the dream," she licked her lips and grimaced.

Rick gave her a comforting smile, "In a way, you got your wish."

She nodded, "Yeah, you can say that." Rick grabbed a piece of bacon from the plate and gave it to Andre who happily accepted. He then came over to Michonne, turned her away from the stove again, and gave her another kiss. Deep and fervent, Rick's own way of making her feel better about the dream.

His hands roamed down her back to just one of his most favorite things about Michonne, rubbed on her soft behind and then grabbed a handful of her left ass cheek. She squealed in his mouth and he chuckled, pushing himself against her and forcing her towards the counters.

"Listen, let's head back to the bedroom and reacquaint ourselves," he whispered in her ear. Michonne's response was to move her legs apart, moaning in his ear.

"Yum! Breakfast and some adult entertainment."

Christie's voice and then Shane's laughter was like a cold shower. Michonne was out of Rick's arms and walking to the dining table before his brain could fire off orders to the rest of his body. Shane's laughter dying off made Rick meet his friend's eye, a confused expression crossed Shane's face as the two men stared at one another.

 _He saw_.

Christie walked passed him in the kitchen and smirked, like yesterday, there was no judgment in her eyes only amusement. She opened up her wine cabinet and got out a bottle of champagne.

"Mimosa?" She asked, grabbing a corkscrew from one of the drawers and then popping open the bottle. She didn't wait for him to answer, Christie poured champagne into the four glasses that already contained orange juice.

"Yeah, bring the whole bottle too," Rick replied.

* * *

All five of them sat at the dining table, quietly passing plates of bacon, eggs, and pancakes between them. Only Andre spoke, carrying on a lively conversation with just himself, occasionally shouting for Michonne's attention. Rick watched Shane down his mimosa and began tapping on the table while stealing glances at Michonne.

 _I should clear the air_ , he thought. Rick opened his mouth to do just that when Christie spoke before him.

"I received an email from Tracinski this morning. He wants to make a plea deal with Jacobs."

Michonne's fork hit the porcelain plate a little too hard with an abrupt clang, "We're in the middle of a trial. I wasn't taken off this case just for Merle to be pleaded out."

"I know."

Michonne sighed, "My gut said Zach was a horrible choice and he has the nerve to think he's one of the best. All he has done in the past three years is take plea deals. Lazy."

"And Jacobs is being a dick about it. Not offering anything less than life in prison with parole."

Regret creep into Michonne's mind, she had a strong sense of justice and what was happening to Merle wasn't it. "I'll go back."

Rick's hand darted to her own, "No, you need to rest and not stress."

Michonne shot him a look, a clear message that stress in the situation they found themselves in was inevitable. "Thank you," she said, looking quickly at Shane who seemed sullen and then to Christie, "the real killer is out there, Zach can argue that putting doubt in the juror's mind is the goal here."

Christie shrugged and reached for the champagne bottle, "I told him that and his words were, 'You expect me to play Jesus, for free?'"

"Well, I have to see Merle today. I'll tell him to not make the deal, no matter what pressure Zach puts on him."

"Michonne," Christie shook her head slowly, a kind smile crossed her face, "You took the case pro-bono, but Tracinski does not have to honor that deal."

Sighing heavily, Michonne sat back in her seat. Removing grapes from her plate and handing them to Andre. She was coming up with blanks on how to free Merle through the law without her taking the case again.

"I think this Merle's guy best chance is with us," Rick said, pointing between himself and Shane.

Shane raised an eyebrow, looked over at Christie, rolled his eyes, shrugged and stared back at his plate of pancakes. "Don't be makin' promises you can't keep just because you want to impress a girl," Shane said.

Rick's nostrils flared, he leaned closer to the table, resting both arms and looking dead at his friend, "Nothing wrong with wanting to help."

Shane met Rick's eye and laughed, "Trust me from experience, you ain't much help when you thinkin' with your dick."

Michonne flinched and Rick stood up. Even Andre stopped eating his grapes, sensing the adults have now become more interesting.

"A child is present, can we not!" Christie got up from her seat and pulled on Shane's arm until he stood up as well.

"Sorry, little dude," he said to Andre. His apology not extending towards Michonne or Rick. Christie escorted him out the room leaving Rick and Michonne alone.

Michonne eyed Rick who had his head in his hands, sighing. "That's the infamous Shane?" she asked, rubbing his back in a circular motion.

He chuckled, "Yep."

"Well, at least he isn't trying to kill you." Rick looked over at her, a small smile appearing on his face.

"The day is just starting," he quipped and leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

"EW! Nasty!" Andre shouted, both Michonne and Rick broke into laughter as Andre climbed down from his chair and went back to the living area.

"Your kid is something else."

"Yeah, he is," Michonne held Rick's hand, her expression turning serious, "I think I should go with you today."

Rick shook his head, "No. I can handle Shane, I'm good."

"You're sure."

Some of her locs had fallen on her face, he reached up and moved them back, "Positive."

"Ok," she resigned.

Rick leaned further over, caressing the side of Michonne's face and chin. Her lips parted and Rick went for another kiss. His free hand going under Michonne's dress, roaming up her leg and to her thigh. Her own fingers clutching his hair. He felt the heat between her legs before he could touch her and she could feel his presence there because she wiggled in her seat. Michonne bit Rick's lower lip, mewing against him as she felt him move her panties to the side and his finger slid against her clit. Rick dipped his finger into her, lazily stroking his finger in and out.

"Oh god," she whispered.

"Sorry love, we're going to have to call God later."

Michonne opened her eyes to see Rick smirking at her, "You're such an asshole." She moved away from him and stood up, "You know it's on, right?"

Rick laughed, "Bring it, baby."

"To quote one of the greatest movies of our time, 'It's already been brought'n.'"

A silent pause came between them before both broke into riotous laughter.

* * *

Here Michonne was again, sitting and waiting for Merle Dixon to come shuffling through the door. She crossed her legs and pulled at the fabric bunching up around her knee, smoothing out the black texture. Michonne knew how this meeting was going to go and she felt prepared for it, but that didn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach. All she needed to do was get through the next ten minutes and then freedom.

Her thoughts swept to a pleasant image of her painting while her boys, Rick, Carl, and Andre played outside. That's what she wanted, that's what she deserved and that was her goal. Rick wanted answers as to why this phenomenon happened and the logical side of Michonne did too, but a small spark of fear gnawed at heart. Every moment with Andre made her forget about that world, made it easier for her to push away the memories; she hasn't had an incident since Monday which only made her resolve stronger.

Cheerful, boisterous chatter and heavy footsteps could be heard outside the door. Merle's hoarse voice cracked through the doors, Michonne cleared her throat and stood up.

The door swung open and a tall barreled-chested man walked in first, he gave Michonne a terse nod and pulled out the chair Merle would be sitting in. Michonne clamped her hands in front of her, watching Merle come through the door. A frown planted deep on his face, he held up his handcuffed hands and gave a short wave, his frown turning into a smirk.

"Well well well. My Nubian queen decided to grace me with her presence," he said, hoarsely. Michonne noticed his smirked turned serious and his energy felt off. She sat down as the guard shackled Merle to the chair and table.

 _Maybe he already knows_.

The guard turned to leave, but not before giving Michonne a companionable smile. Michonne returned his smile and then her eyes swept back to Merle. He cocked his head, leaning back in his chair, only one of his hands were cuffed to the table, and the other slid off it and onto his thigh.

"Here I was thinking my trial was being delayed because my amazing lawyer found the real killer, but _nooo_ she had a tummy ache."

"Merle…," Michonne began.

"And then! She quit! Now, I have this no nothing prick who's trying to get me to agree to life in prison. He says," Merle chuckled. "He says it's better than lethal injection. Rotting in prison is not better than being put out of your fucking misery."

Michonne frowned as she thought back to what Christie told her last week. She was the one who came to Merle and promised him she'll win his case, that she'll make sure he'll walk out of jail a freed man.

"I want to apologize. No excuses, I've failed you and for that I am sorry."

Merle scoffed, "And here I thought you weren't like the rest of your people."

Michonne rolled her eyes and eyed him, he smirked and licked his lips, ready for her to react. Michonne leaned slightly forwards and for the first time noticed how stuffy the room was.

"Merle, your brother is dead," she said softly.

He stared at her blankly, Michonne swallowed anticipating his reaction any moment. She watched as his widen-eyes narrowed, his open-mouth closed, and his smirk turned into a sneer.

"You better be fucking joking with me," his chains clanged against the metal as he leaned forward.

Michonne shook her head.

"GODDAMMIT! My brother's not dead, you stupid bitch he's not dead! You're wrong!" He spat and stood up so quickly, his movements scared Michonne. She stood up as well, reaching for a katana that was currently hanging on a wall, nowhere near here. Merle's eyes popped, the veins in his neck pulsed and his hands were clenched into fists. Fists that he slammed on the table over and over. "YOU'RE LYING. HE AIN'T DEAD!"

The door violently swung open as the correctional officer streamed in, reaching for Merle's limbs and demanding he calm down.

"HE AIN'T DEAD. HE AIN'T DEAD."

Michonne's heart raced as she tried to maintain her composure, she watched the officer secure Merle, but he wouldn't hold still. Frustrated, the man placed Merle in a chokehold, Michonne eyes widen as she saw Merle continue to struggle.

"Stop," she demanded quietly, but he wouldn't. Tears streamed down Merle's face, spit coming out of his mouth. Michonne moved to block the door and held out her hand. "I said STOP!"

The officer did as he was told, looking at Michonne with confusion.

"Daryl's gone, my little brother is gone." Gargled sobs emitted from Merle and Michonne tried to hold back her own tears.

"Sit him back down in his seat."

"Ma'am I'm taking him bac—."

"You're going to sit him down! He just lost his brother, give us a few more minutes. Please!"

The man stared at Michonne, silently debating whether to listen to her or not. And then he removed his arm from around Merle's neck and sat him down. Merle didn't resist, the only thing he could do was slowly shake his head, mutter to himself as he cried.

Michonne walked back to her seat, sitting down, she nodded to the officer who didn't acknowledge her.

"Thank you."

"The door is staying open."

"Ok."

With the man out of sight, Michonne's eyes swept to Merle. She wished she had words of comfort to give him, but she was drawing blanks.

"He didn't deserve this. It's my fault."

"Merle you didn't do this."

"I DID!" Michonne glanced towards the door and licked her lips. "I did," Merle repeated, but quietly. "I'm the one who dragged him with me to meet that guy."

Michonne perked up, "Negan?" Her curiosity piqued.

Merle didn't respond instead he sighed heavily and wiped his eyes and nose.

"Merle, what is it you're not telling me? Last week you made it sound like you only knew of Negan through Shelly and Dwight, now you're saying you actually met him."

"I ain't no snitch."

"Your brother didn't just die, he was murdered."

Merle shook his head, his lips tightened and more tears fell from his eyes. Michonne scooted closer, she needed Merle to tell her the truth, she may be done with this case, but she knew any information Merle had would be beneficial to Rick.

"There is a detective here from a town about two hours from here. That man is investigating a murder that is practically identical to what happened with Dwight and Shelly."

Merle made eye contact with Michonne, his forehead furrowed and she could see he was slowly coming out of his daze.

"What happened when you met with Negan?"

Merle stared at her, his eyes moved up and down her body and swept over to the door. "He owns a bar on the outskirts of Atlanta, it's called 'The Sanctuary.'"

The hair on Michonne's arms tingled, she clasp her fingers together tightly.

"I was looking for those two junkies."

"Sherry and Dwight?"

"Yeah and I brought Daryl along with me for backup, stupid." His eyes downturned, "They owed me money and I was there to collect. So me and my brother tried to get in but this dumb tall fuck name Simon was in our way. Well, we were about to force our way in and then that's when he came out… Negan."

Merle sniffed and adjusted in the seat, a sly smirk appeared on his face. "Charming asshole. No matter how many insults I threw at him, he didn't seem bothered, he said he would pay Sherry and Dwight's debt. I told him I didn't want his damn money and that's when he brought out a damn baseball bat wrapped in wire."

Michonne eyes widen and the temperature in the room seemed to have dropped, she crossed her arms and willed herself to focus on Merle and not the past.

"Son of a bitch was swinging it about and whistling. And then he looked at my brother and I saw it. I… saw something, he looked at my brother like he knew him. I even asked Daryl later that day had he ever met Negan, but my brother said no. But, I'm telling you lawyer lady, I swear on everything I have left in this piss stank world, I think Negan knew my brother."

"Based on a look?"

Merle scowled, "My brother ain't do shit to no one. He kept to himself, he wasn't involved in any dirt that was all me, so you tell me who would want him dead?"

"I don't know."

"He ain't did nothing to nobody. I can't… I can't…," Merle's voice faltered as he cried again. "I can't even make sure he has a proper funeral. I can't even say goodbye."

Without thinking, Michonne reached across the room and took Merle's hand. "I'll pay for the arrangements."

To her surprise, Merle jerked his hand from her, a sour expression crossed his face. "We Dixons take care of our own. I don't need your charity."

"I'm not… it's the least I can do since—."

"Guard! I'm done here."

The guard came back in, unlocking Merle from the table and escorting him from the room. Leaving Michonne perplexed.

* * *

"Mommy!"

Andre attempted to wiggle out of his car seat, reaching out for Michonne to assist him. Instead, after getting into the passenger seat, Michonne grabbed his stuffed dog and gave it to her son, hoping it'll keep him occupied for a moment.

"You're still in one piece," Christie said from the driver's side. Michonne sighed and shook her head, she looked up towards the tiny windows; the only view that inmates had the outside. Michonne wondered if Merle was looking down at them from one of those windows.

"Barely. I gave that man false hope and now…"

"Michonne, what has happened was out of your control."

Michonne nodded and turned to face Andre again, she grabbed ahold of his leg and shook it. "Are you hungry Peanut?"

"Mommy, I want peanut butta and jelly."

Michonne grinned, "Ok, we're going to get something to eat in a few." Turning to Christie who was driving, "You have classes today?"

"Yeah, not going."

"Christie, go to class, I'll be fine."

Christie scrunched up her face, "I'm not going because of _you_. I'm not going because I don't feel like it."

Michonne lightly slapped Christie on the arm, chuckling, "You cannot be skipping classes, especially when you're in law school. Take your butt to class or I'll make you."

"You and what army?"

"Peanut. Tell TiTi Christie that she needs to go to class."

"Go to class!" Andre ordered. Michonne and Christie broke into giggles.

"Andre, I thought we were friends. Traitor," Christie quickly glanced behind her and stuck her tongue out. Andre responded by blowing raspberries at her.

"You really not going to class?" Michonne asked. Christie nodded, "Well, let's find someplace to eat."

"How about the aquarium?"

Michonne nodded enthusiastically, the Georgia Aquarium was one of her favorite spots to visit especially after Andre's birth. And in her mind, it had been too long since she's been there. Pulling out her phone, she sent scrolled through the names on her contact list, stopping when she reached Mike's.

Mike had only called one time and that was last night asking if Andre was okay. Michonne remembered holding her breath waiting for him to demand she come back home with their son, but all she heard was a resigned sigh, a half-hearted joke about kidnapping and then an 'I love you' before he hung up. She knew his way of trying to win her back was to give her space and the fact that Mike was calm showed her that he didn't know Rick was in town. Hopefully, it would stay that way. She sent Mike a text letting him know that they were heading to the aquarium and that she and Andre won't be home until tomorrow. And then she scrolled to Rick's number.

Michonne needed to relay what Merle told her about Negan to him. _He looked at my brother like he knew him._ A slight chill made Michonne shiver and like yesterday, her intuition was sending out alarm signals. What if Negan was from their world or had the same knowledge that he had gone through an apocalypse and now everything was back to normal. Michonne frowned, her memories of that other world was still in fragments, same with Rick's memory.

But…

Michonne's stomach turned. _What if Negan knows about us?_ Suddenly, Michonne was no longer in a mood to go to the aquarium. She looked down at her phone and sent Rick a text:

We need to talk. It's about a Negan.

"Christie, could you stop by my place before we go to the aquarium?"

Christie looked at her in confusion. "I'll have to turn around."

"I forgot my wallet."

"Well, I can pay—"

"Christie, please," Michonne whispered. "I need to get something."

"Fine."

Christie turned into a clothing store parking lot and made a U-Turn. Michonne tapped her finger on her phone, stealing glances at Andre who seemed to be in his own world with his toy cars. Her fantasy of relaxing with him, Rick and Carl was going to have to be placed on hold. Her eyes swept from Andre to Christie. Christie's brows were furrowed, biting her lip while her left arm rubbed her leg.

"Christie?"

"I'm heading there," she said.

"I know… I just wanted to say thank you… for everything."

"Michonne, you don't—."

"Yes, I do. You've gone above and beyond just on the faith of our friendship and I appreciate it."

"I told you already that I'm your guardian angel." She looked at Michonne smiling and then gave her a wink.

Michonne stared back, wide-eyed, "Christie," she whispered as if Andre was paying attention to the two women. "Are you…"

Christie's face contorted and then she snorted, "No. I'm just kidding. Oh, my god, that would mean I'm dead and… NO, ugh Michonne dammit, now I have the heebie-jeebies."

Michonne smiled, "Anything is possible."

"Well, not that."

Ten minutes later, Christie pulled in front of Michonne's condo.

"Home," Andre announced.

"Yeah, peanut. Christie, this won't take but five minutes." Christie nodded as Michonne got out of the car. She looked around her, watching for suspicious persons. She closed the door and opened the backseat, leaning towards Andre, Michonne gave her son a kiss on the cheek. "Christie drive around the block a couple of times, please."

For the second time, Christie looked at her with confusion, but her face relaxed, "yeah sure."

Michonne locked the backseat door and walked quickly to the front door.

Her condo was eerily quiet and when she gazed over her surroundings, Michonne could tell that Mike never came home as well. Her eyes swept towards the reason she even came home; her gorgeous katana sitting pretty above the mantle place. Just like last time, she felt drawn to the weapon that she used to wield in the battle against the living and dead. Michonne moved the ottoman closer to the fireplace and stretched until the sword was in her hand.

She looked at the intricate design on the scabbard and wrapped her hand around the hilt, slowly pulling the katana halfway out. The afternoon sun shined on it, the edges were sharp. Michonne took a breath and then let it out, and swiftly pushed the katana all the way inside the scabbard. She then pulled the strap over her head, securing her katana on her back.

"You know you can't legally use this dang thing," she said, chastising herself. But, as she clutched the strap to her chest and felt some of her anxiety slip away, she had a feeling she might use it anyway.

* * *

The opening of a conversation Rick needed to have with Shane was on the tip of his tongue. The two men sat quietly in a car, Christie was kind enough to provide them, on their way to one of Atlanta's precinct. Shane was uncharacteristically quiet, biting his nail on his forefinger and staring out the window. A couple of times he would roll his neck, run his hand through his hair, and sniffle, but for the most part, he was silent, motionless.

Shane had to be thinking about the week before, the accusations Rick hurled at him and Lori, the punch to the face, and now seeing Rick in an intimate embrace with a woman he met hours ago. He had questions that Rick wasn't ready to answer. Rick swallowed, his thumbs nervously tapping on the steering wheel, he slid his right hand into his front pocket, pulling out a piece of paper.

Michonne had scribbled the address for where they needed to go and directions. He made a left onto Henderson and saw the police garage deck with a galley of police cars parked there. Rick pulled into a section marked for visitors and parked. The unspoken issues between Shane and him were going to have to be tabled for later and Rick couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

On a weekday down at the King County Sheriff's station it would be quiet, the hours would slowly tick by with maybe one disturbance. Time moving like molasses was the reason Rick preferred patrol duty, better being stuck in his car then stuck behind a desk. So, when he and Shane entered the Atlanta precinct, he was taken aback by the bustling and noisy place. Phones were ringing off the hook, some shouting behind a door, and a group of police officers chatting walked past Rick and Shane and went through that door. A visitor room which looked full to capacity with women and children and a few men, a wailing baby could be heard from their left.

At King County, there was the receptionist/operator desk and then desks assigned to the officers and detectives, here there was a long wall with windows peeking inside where the other officers went into, the receptionist desk hid behind Plexiglas with a speaker attached.

Shane stepped toward the fake glass, a brown-haired woman in her late 30s sat with a phone pressed to her ear. Her forehead scrunched as she wrote furiously on a piece of paper. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she wore a blue headband that matched her blue uniform.

Shane knocked on the glass and smiled liked the Cheshire cat. The woman eyes bounced between him and Rick and then above them, she nodded and her mouth moved, but Rick couldn't hear nor make out what she was saying. Then she continued writing. Shane smile faltered, he knocked again, harder, and she looked up, again. Rick stared at the badge on her shirt until he could make out the word; _Jodi_.

Jodi dropped her pen, turning the phone away from her mouth she pressed a button by her side.

"Can I help you?" Her voice was soft but gave away her irritation.

"I'm Officer Shane Walsh this is…" Shane looked at Rick, "what are you now?"

Rick rolled his eyes and leaned towards the speaker, "I'm Detective Rick Grimes, and we're here to speak with Detective Brian Blake."

"Badges and IDs?"

Rick and Shane pulled out their badges with their IDs attached and pressed them against the glass. Jodi only looked for half a second, pulled out a folder. Opening it, she flipped through a list of names until she got to a section that was only half way filled. She gazed back up, read their badges and wrote the number down on the paper with their names. Then there was a buzz from the door to the side of them.

"You can go in," she said.

Rick and Shane nodded their heads in gratitude and went inside.

* * *

Detective Blake came from the back, a smile planted on his face that rang false somehow, he walked to them confidently, holding out his hands once he was closer.

"Been expecting you," he said. Brian's voice was like iced tea on a hot summer day, heavily Southern, a melodic accent that made his introduction sweet. He towered over Rick and Shane, after shaking hands with both of them he rested his hands on his hips. "I hear ya'll got yourself a little murder in your town. Don't have too many of those down in good ol' Mayberry?"

Shane scoffed and crossed his arms. "Nah," he said.

"Not the kind that we came here to discuss with you about, that is," Rick said.

Brian raised an eyebrow and smiled again, "Fire away." He led them towards the back, down a hallway, past the locker room and custodian's closet. There were several office doors, but only one that had Brian's name on it stenciled into the door like a classic detective movie.

Brian opened the door for the two men and offered them to sit down in the chairs in front of his desk while he sat in a large office chair behind it.

"We came down here because the victim in our murder investigation died in a similar fashion to a double murder that you investigated." Rick decided there was no point beating around the bush, time was even more urgent after the breakfast conversation earlier today.

Brian crossed his arms, leaning back in his seat, his hands meeting each other at the fingertips. "And we caught our killer," he replied. "He's awaiting judgment and from what I hear, his defense ain't doing too hot."

"No offense, but if you saw what we saw, I don't think you would be able to say that so confidently," Rick said. His words harsh, his eyes hard.

Shane's head jerked, "Look, you're right," Shane spoke up, unlike Rick his tone was light. "We're from a boring ass town and it ain't every day you see someone you knew by name with their fucking head smashed like a piñata."

Rick watched Brian eye Shane in amusement, his own eyes briefly cutting over to Shane who leaned further in his chair. "We have some suspects, but we just want to cover all our angles. You understand?" Shane asked.

Brian nodded.

Shane looked back over at Rick, sending a silent communication for him to keep his shit together. Rick's jaw clenched and he cleared his throat.

"I'll cut to the chase, the victim might have known a man by the name of Negan." Rick saw the shift, Brian made in his seat, very subtle, but he caught it. "Negan's name was mentioned in court records from Dwight's DUI court case. The same Dwight that had his own head smashed to bits."

"And this Negan… you think it's the same guy."

"It can't be a coincidence."

"It very well could be," Brian countered.

"Did you interview Negan?"

Brian shrugged, "no need. We caught our guy pretty early on. You see I don't know how advanced the police department and ya'll practice are down there, but we have this little thing called DNA forensics and Merle Dixon's DNA was all over the murder scene."

A sardonic chuckle emitted from Rick, "Ok. You have your guy, we're just trying to find ours. Can you help us out?"

A long pause and then Brian's chair shifted, he moved forward and opened a drawer, pulling out a notepad.

"Negan has a bar on the outskirts of Atlanta," he said writing on the pad. "Here's the address." He ripped the paper from the pad, folding it and then holding it out for Rick. Rick went to reach for it, but Brian moved his hand back. He looked dead in Rick's eyes, a scorn expression wore on his face. "If I find out you and Barney Fife over there are trying to undermine my work, I will have your asses escorted out of Atlanta and back to your good ol' hometown where the people still believe the earth is flat and wrasslin's real."

Rick's head tilted, his eyes narrowing and zoning in on Brian's nose. One hit to the face and lights out was all it took. He reached for the note and snatched it out of the detective's hand, standing up quickly and heading for the door.

"No thank you?"

Shane slamming the door behind them was their thank you.

* * *

"Did ya here that there Rick, wrasslin' ain't real? Why da man have to go and hurt my feelins' like that," Shane said, exaggerating his accent. "Fucking asshole."

"And apparently, the Earth ain't flat, everything Mr. Ed taught me was a lie," Rick added, he grinned widely as they made it back to their car.

"I expected this kind of treatment from fucking Northerners, that son of a bitch got a lot of nerve."

"Yeah, well, he wasn't going to be any help. The minute Morgan called him about Ed's murder, that asshole knew he messed up."

"At least we got an address out of him."

"Yep." With both Rick and Shane in the car, Rick started up the ignition and headed towards the location.

Once again, silence fell between the two men, but Rick thoughts were still stuck on their humorous exchange.

"When were you going to tell me about whatsherface?"

 _There goes the peace._

"Her name's Michonne," Rick glance quickly at Shane who shook his head.

"I don't care what her name is, why did I walk in and see you humping her like a damn dog on the kitchen counter?"

Rick grunted, "I answer to you now? I told you the other night that Lori and I—."

"Were getting a divorce," Shane finished, waving him off. "But, my friend, what you've neglected to add was that it was because you were off two-timing Lori!"

Rick nearly slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street. A car blared its horn, most likely directed at him. "It's complicated."

"BULLSHIT! You trying to bullshit a professional bullshitter. Complicated my ass, you want to know why I'm pissed?" Shane turned in his seat facing Rick, his lips pressed tightly, staring at Rick intently.

"Because I punched you," Rick answered.

"YES BECAUSE YOU PUNCHED ME! You're a fucking asshole."

"And I apologize, didn't I?" Rick's stomach tighten, this argument was escalating and they were in a moving vehicle.

"Yeah, well, I don't accept it," Shane turned forward and pouted.

"You've already accepted it," Rick bit his inner cheek to keep from laughing, but in his efforts, he snorted.

"This shit ain't funny. Lori is probably at home right now, crying her eyes out and you're having the time of your life with this whore."

Rick turned into a parking lot, the car stopped abruptly, both men bodies jerking from the sudden stop. His hand clenched the steering wheel tightly as his gaze fixed ahead.

"Get out," his voice hardening, his jaw clenching.

"I'm calling a spade a spade. I see a woman with a kid, no man in sight except for the married one she's sucking off. I'd say that's a whore."

Rick unfasten his seatbelt, opened the car door, and got out. It was now later in the afternoon, the heat reaching its peak temperature for the day. Rick stalked to the passenger side, thinking how foolish of the other man for getting out of the car.

"We're going to do this?" Shane asked, closing his door and facing Rick. "I owe you a punch anyway."

Instead of raising his hands to fight Shane, Rick had the car keys in his hand and threw them at Shane's face. "I'll walk back to Christie's place and you can go back home. I don't need you here," he spat.

Incredulous, Shane gawked and sputtered out words that didn't connect into a proper sentence. Rick headed back to the sidewalk, half of him proud that he didn't fight Shane, the other half wanting to turn around and knocked Shane's teeth down his throat.

* * *

Christie's door opened before Rick had a chance to knock. Startled, both Rick and Christie took a step back from each other. Rick eyed the usually put together Christie's appearance, her hair was in a top knot with a scarf tied to it, she wore thick rimmed black glasses and sweats, and she was carrying a garbage bag.

"I can take that out if you want to," Rick offered. He reached for the bag, but Christie brushed past him.

"I got it." She hauled the bag over her shoulder and walked down the hall. Rick hoped that Shane didn't take his anger out on Christie, as he strolled through her condo, his absence was noticeable. He paused mid-step, Shane couldn't stop gushing about Christie the past couple of days, but one fight with Rick and Shane goes running back to King County. A flash of anger crossed his face as his memories gave him a not so friendly reminder of Shane and Lori. He shook his head, closing his eyes to rid himself of the anger he thought was long gone.

 _If Shane and Lori actually become a thing, so be it, I have what I want._

Rick continued his way towards the guest bedroom, the door was cracked and the light was on, he slowly pushed it open wider and peeked his head inside. Michonne lied on her side facing towards the door, using her hand to prop up her head, she was engrossed in a book. Her locs were under a satin bonnet and she wore a simple white tank top, shorts, and white/pink knee high socks. Rick smiled, his thoughts about Shane and Lori were pushed and locked away.

"Baby," Rick said. Michonne looked up from her book and grinned, closing it, she sat up and placed it on the nightstand beside her.

"Hi."

Rick took a quick look inside the crib by the door, Andre was tucked in and sound asleep. Maybe, it was fatherly instinct, but Rick wanted to physically feel that the little boy was ok. He bent over the crib and caress Andre's cheek, happy to feel the warmth radiating from his skin. Rick has only known him for 24 hours and yet he already felt Andre was one of his.

He didn't know Michonne left the bed until he felt her arms snake around his waist and her head on his back.

"My turn," she whispered. Rick kicked off his shoes and turned to face his love, he held her chin and leaned forward. His lips embracing her soft ones, she pulled him in closer to her body as their tongues entwined and the moaned into each other's mouths. Rick broke the kiss and moved down towards her neck, kissing her tender flesh until he reached her collarbone. Quiet giggles came from Michonne as her hand pushed Rick's head back. "We need to talk."

Rick groaned, resting his hands on Michonne's waist, he clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow, "we can talk while we do other thangs."

Michonne smirked and then shook her head, "Did you find Negan?"

Frowning, Rick took Michonne's hand and led her to the bed where they both sat down. "I got an address to some bar he owns in Atlanta. Was heading over there but Shane felt that was a perfect opportunity to express his opinion about us."

"You and me?"

Rick nodded, he saw the sadness in her face which made him regret not taking the opportunity to punch Shane in his face again. Rick wrapped his arm around her shoulders, "You don't need to worry about Shane. He'll deal, I'll make him deal."

Michonne chuckled, "You can't force people to like me or to like this situation. Lord knows when my momma finds out—."

"Find out? You mean when we share the news… together."

Michonne looked at Rick, skeptically, "You're eager."

Rick couldn't stop himself from grinning widely, "I'm going to meet your parents, and you're going to meet mine. This is exciting."

Michonne bit her bottom lip, softly shaking her head, "yeah, but first… Negan. Merle told me he met Negan. He and Daryl, his brother went to that bar demanding money from the two murder victims, Negan paid Merle instead."

"Why?"

"Merle didn't say."

"In your file, Negan states he helped Dwight and the girl with counseling." Rick shook his head, his forehead scrunch as he tried to connect dots, but something was missing.

"But here's the thing that's bothering me. Merle said that when Negan came out, he stared at Daryl as if he knew him."

"Why is that bothering you?"

"Because when I met Daryl last week, in the back of my mind, I felt like I already knew him as well. I just… I don't know, I feel like it's not just us."

"There's a woman back in King County, her name is Carol and sometimes I feel like we knew each other."

Michonne moved away, she folded her legs and rested her tone arms on top of them. "I have a feeling that we've encounter this guy and it wasn't good."

Rick eyed her, he could see her wariness and the anxiety making itself present on her body. He held her hand, squeezing it lightly until their eyes met. "Is that why you have your katana?" Michonne nodded, her sheathed katana stood on the side of the nightstand, easy access in case anyone came trying to hurt them. Rick stood up and took his colt python from his holster and placed it on the other nightstand.

"I wish I knew what happened to us. Better yet, I just wish I had the full picture of my life in that other place."

"Yeah…"

Michonne scooted to the middle of the bed and laid back. Rick took off his shirt and laid beside her.

"I'm going to that bar tomorrow."

Michonne jerked her head in his direction, "not by yourself."

"It's too dangerous to bring you with. Michonne you can't carry your katana around in the open."

"I know that, but I can't let you go there by yourself."

"I'm a cop, on official police business. Negan is going to have to play nice."

Michonne sighed, "You're right."

Rick turn on his side facing Michonne, he snuck his hand under her shirt, looking for her reaction with a sly grin. "Did you just say I was right?"

Michonne laughed quietly and then rolled her eyes, "A broken clock is right twice a day."

"Oh, it's like that." Rick's hand steadily moved up her flat stomach to her left breast."

She laughed harder, but then when her laughter died down, Rick saw the lust in her eyes. Michonne licked her lips and moved so that she rested on her elbows. Rick gently massage her breast and captured her soft lips with his own. Slowly moving his tongue against hers. Making due on his promise.

* * *

 _Tiny pebbles were imprinting themselves in Michonne's knee, she moved just a little to relieve some of her discomforts, but found none. The wind had picked up speed within the last hour, whipping Michonne's hair in her face, her thin long sleeve shirt offering little protection._

 _Eenie._

 _Meenie._

 _Minie._

 _Mo._

 _He stopped in front of her, the bat at his side, she didn't think it was possible his grin could get any wider, but it did, showing off practically all of his teeth. Michonne told herself to not look away, maintain eye contact even though she felt the tears coming. He winked at her and moved to Carl._

 _Catch._

 _A Tiger. By its toe._

 _Michonne's heartbeat felt sluggish as if sand was filling up in her chest making it harder for her heart to beat. Time slowed down as well with each step he took and each word he utter, Michonne felt like this night would never end._

 _Movement to the left of her, unknown men grabbed the figure that kneeled next to her, people shouting no and loud cries could be heard, but Michonne felt her throat closing up._

" _If anyone moves, cut the other boy's eye out and feed it to his father. You all can breathe. You can blink. You can cry." He laughs, "Hell you all will be doing that."_

 _Michonne watched him swing the bat, everything within her wanted to look away, but instead she craned her neck. Something within in her needed to know who it was that was being beaten to death. She felt herself moving, but then a hand grabbing her arm, forcing her to look away from the gruesome sight. It was Rick, his eyes spoke the words that he couldn't say. 'Don't move.'_

 _SPLAT!_

 _Her head swiveled to the squishing sounds, she squinted her eyes to see better despite the lights shining all over the area. The body on the ground no longer had a head. The man stopped swinging the bat._

" _That motherfucker took it like a champ."_

 _Drenched in so much blood it looked as if the bat was bleeding, blood trailing from it as the man strutted towards Rick, breathing heavy from his strenuous task._

" _What was his name?"_

 _Michonne licked her lips, her eyes darted from the man to the body on the ground, back to the man, then to Rick and that's when she felt herself give in. Tears fell fast on her cheek, she looked back to the man and saw the satisfaction on his face that he broke her. Michonne opened her mouth, ignoring her dry cracked lips._

" _Morgan. His name was Morgan."_


	16. Here's Negan

**Chapter 16**

Michonne's thighs quivered, her stomach tightened, she held her injured hand over her mouth muffling her moans while the other hand clenched Rick's hair. The headache that woke her from her sleep was gone thanks to Rick's skillful tongue.

He kissed down her inner left thigh and then her right, holding onto her bottom to keep her wiggling at a minimal. Rick inhaled her scent of arousal and his mouth watered when his eyes gaze upon her pink opening, hot and wet. Michonne shook from her fingers to her toes, feeling his tongue enter her, massaging her inner walls. She wanted more, she wanted a much thicker, harder, and longer anatomy of his inside her. Rick received her hints but opted to ignore them. Just like he was ignoring his own desire that was hard against the bed.

He moved his tongue from her opening and licked her inner lip to her other. Rick sucked on each of her plump, meaty lips and release them with a popping sound. He sloppily lapped up her wetness, his smacking joining the chorus of Michonne's mewling and the bed creaking. Michonne removed her hand from her mouth and joined it with her other entangled in Rick's hair. She pushed his head into her pussy as she spread her legs wider—her pleasure outweighing the pressure she was placing on her injured hand. Rick slowly tongued her clit, sucking it gently for a few seconds and then hard.

"Baby," Michonne's whisper barely audible. Arching her back, her hands still clung tightly to Rick's hair. The closer she came to reaching her peak, the rougher she was with Rick, but Rick didn't mind, a mixture of his saliva and her wetness dribbled down his chin. He grinned licking her inner and outer lips, cleaning her up just a bit, and then latching onto her clit again.

"Oh God." Michonne cried out, but not loud enough to be heard outside their bedroom doors. Michonne felt the telltale signs of her peak in the pit of her stomach. She removed her hands from Rick's curls, sliding them up her body towards her breasts, towards her hard nipples, pinching and massaging them. "I'm cumming."

Rick didn't need an announcement, he knew. He held onto her thighs trying to keep her from gyrating off the bed while his mouth never left her clit. Rick peeked upwards and the exotic sight almost made him cum as well. Michonne's eyes tightly shut, her hands squeezing her breasts, her breathing shaky, and a big grin on her face.

Michonne arched her back again, her body tensed, and she silently cried out. She reached her peak wishing that feeling would last longer than a few seconds. Wishing that feeling was a magic cure to take away the headaches and bad dreams. In those few seconds, it did and then she slowly fell back down onto the bed; euphoria and drowsiness coursing through her brain.

Rick continued to tongue Michonne's quivering pussy, then he kissed her thighs, making his way up her body. Michonne grinned, her hands finding their way back to his hair, musing over how long it'll take him to grow his hair back to the length she remembered in their other world. Rick couldn't pass up her breasts without greeting them, his mouth wrapped around her right breast, sucking and licking its nipple.

"Rick," she whimpered. Wrapping her legs around his lower thighs. Rick felt the heat from her pussy warming his hard cock. He left her breasts and moved upwards until he came face to face with his lover. His cock pressed against her pubic bone, twitching and aching for relief, but Rick wanted to make sure Michonne was okay.

"You feel better?" He asked directly in her ear, lightly biting and kissing the nape of her neck.

Michonne nodded, "Physically? Yes," she said. Her body still tingled and feeling his tongue on her neck and Rick's length against her skin made her hungry for more. "Mentally?" She sighed, "Time will tell."

Rick stopped and gazed into her eyes. Michonne looked sublime, a smile still etched on her face. "I guess, I gotta try harder."

She laughed softly, "Baby for ten minutes, I forgot all about that nightmare. But, we can't lie in bed for the rest of our lives."

Rick raised an eyebrow and bit his lips. Sitting up on his knees, Michonne thighs pressed beside them, his length standing at attention. "No, but we have about thirty minutes until the sun comes up." He smirked, lifting her thighs and scooting her closer. Michonne giggled, her breathing becoming heavier as she waited for Rick's next move. She didn't have to wait long, Rick position his length near her entrance and as he slowly entered her… the image of Morgan dying left her once again.

* * *

 **Hours Later**

 _How does someone run a bar in the middle of nowhere?_

Rick pulled into a parking lot where there were several vehicles parked side by side far north of him and four Harley Davidsons to his left. Rick parked his own vehicle on the opposite side of it and stepped out. The bar looked, unlike any bar, he's been to; an abandoned factory about three stories high. The windows on the third floor of the grey and drab building were blacked out and a few on the second. The rest were different, more wide and modern. Right above what appeared to be the first floor were two neon signs, shining brightly against the unimpressive building.

"Lucille's Knock Em' Dead. Bar N' Grill."

 _Lucille?_ The name was familiar, but Rick couldn't put his finger on how.

His phone buzzed in his back pocket; pulling it out he read Michonne's name.

"Hey, I'm here," stepping back to the driver's door, Rick eyed his gun and holster on the passenger seat.

"You shouldn't go in alone," she said. Rick smiled knowing that refuting her wishes last night wouldn't have been the end of it. He opened the door reaching for the passenger's seat.

"I'm not. How's your hand?" He grabbed his holster and backed out of his car, closing the door again.

Michonne sighed, "My stitches have been removed and I'm definitely going to have a scar."

"Think of the scar as some sort of battle wound."

"From my fight with my reflection and a mirror?" She laughed.

"Well other people don't have to know. You can say you warded off a bad guy or saved a baby from a burning bush."

"Or saving you from walking into an ambush."

"I'll be fine."

"Ok."

"Don't say ok and the next thing I know you're here." He buckled his holster around his waist and then made sure his Sheriff's badge was promptly in view on his shirt.

Michonne chuckled, "I would be there, but…" she paused.

Rick stared ahead of him, scanning for any movement inside. Either his presence was being purposely ignored or they were deep inside the building. "Michonne?" Rick listened intently for a response, he could faintly hear movement in the background and voices too faint to make out. "Michonne?"

The rustling increased in volume and Rick realized the cell was being picked up.

"Sorry about that," Michonne's voice wavered.

"What's going on?"

"Spencer's standing outside my condo."

"Why?"

"I'm about to find out. Probably just Merle stuff," she sighed again, "Probably more bad news, I shouldn't have quit."

"You had to what was best for you and Merle. And quitting was the best option. Don't doubt yourself."

"You're right."

Rick smiled, "Am I two and O in the 'Rick is right' game?" He could visualize Michonne shaking her head at his joke.

"Make it three and O by coming back to me in one piece."

"Love you."

"Love you more."

Rick hung up with Michonne, their short talk renewing his resolve.

Walking onto the front porch of the bar, the wood creaked loudly under his feet. Rick tried the entrance door, a heavy steel double door, his efforts stopped when the door only rattled. The bar's hours of operation were posted as such: _M-Sa: 2-3 am. Sunday: Fuck off_.

"Negan's a funny guy," Rick muttered, frowning he knocked on the door. He knocked again, louder.

The sun at its peak bore down on his back. Rick wiped sweat from the back of his curls and rested his hands on his hips. Annoyance crept along his nerves, he didn't come all the way to Atlanta to leave empty-handed.

Rick was about to knock for the third time when he saw the knob twisting. It gave him enough time to move out of the way because the next moment the door swung wildly open as if it was made from light material and not steel.

A man stepped out, glaring at Rick.

"We ain't open yet, can you read asshole?" said the man who was a foot shorter than Rick. What he lacked in height, he attempted to make up for by being a muscle head He wore a tight black shirt, stretched to its limits. His bulging biceps were like two large rocks, they didn't look natural on his small stature. The man stood guarding the door, his bloodshot blue eyes looking at Rick.

"And can you see?" Rick pointed to his badge while his other hand tapped his holster. The man grimaced and rolled his comically large neck.

"What's your business here?"

"I need to speak to your boss. Negan." The man's face dropped, he shook his head.

"Negan ain't here, dude."

"It's Officer—Detective Grimes, dude. I know you're not in charge, so let me talk to whoever Negan is letting run his place while he's away."

Before the man could say another word, someone pushed open the door knocking into the Guido with enough force, he lost his footing.

A man about Rick's height stepped out. With his graying hair slicked back and a neatly trimmed goatee, the man looked distinguished, like you would see him running some hip tech company. But, Rick eyed the two scars on both cheeks. Long lines etched from the corners of his mouth to almost his ears.

The man closed the door and stood against it, resting one hand on the other in front of him.

 _For a bar, you're sure welcoming_ is what Rick wanted to say instead he reached into his back pocket.

"Keep your hands in front of you," the man spoke with a clear Irish accent and Rick eyed the man reaching behind his own back.

"I'm a cop, so I suggest you keep your hands in front of you," Rick pulled out a notebook while the man promptly moved his hand forward giving Rick a hard-piercing glare. "You got a permit for the gun you're carrying?" Rick cautiously moved towards the man and without being told, the man turned around with his hands up. Rick saw the revolver handle poking out of the waistband.

"I know my rights. Permit's in my car."

Rick took the gun and spun the man around. "I'll give you the gun back when I see your permit."

The man's scowl deepened without addressing Rick he pounded on the door, three short heavy knocks.

"We got company," he turned to the Guido, "Go inside and take him with you," he said and stepped around Rick and walked to one of the vehicles.

Rick looked at the Guido, "You have a weapon as well?"

"No."

"What's your name?"

The Guido looked at Rick with such contempt which Rick dismissed. Kevin was low on the totem pole; Negan's doorman.

"Kevin," he said.

"Lead the way, Kevin." Rick stepped behind him as a grumbling Kevin opened the bar door, not bothering to hold it open. Rick caught the heavy door before it shut on his foot.

The first thing Rick noticed was the two partially nude women on a small stage. One gyrated on the floor in a neon green bikini that popped against her dark skin. Seductively smiling at the men who watched her. The other woman spun aimlessly around the pole, only wearing blue panties and not remotely interested in entertaining the sparse bar.

The two men that sat in front of the stage were smoking and drinking. One of the guys who looked like he came up to Rick's chest leaned over the flimsy barrier between himself and the exotic dancers and threw Monopoly money. His callous action causing he and his friend to burst into hysterical laughter.

Despite this, the woman in neon kept a smile on her face, turned around on all fours and shook her ass, provocatively. The same guy again leaned forward and tossed napkins at the girl.

"You gonna have to do better than that tonight if you want real money," he said, leering at the girl who stopped dancing. He leaned closer to her, to the point he was practically on the stage and well within arms reach of the woman. "Take these off. I wanna see your pussy." He tried to pull her bikini bottom string, but she recoiled in disgust, pushing his hands away.

The other dancer stormed toward them. "Don't fucking touch her," she yelled. Her green eyes bulged and her fists clenched tightly. "Why are you even here Teddy. Don't you have a wife and kids to tend to."

"Mind your business bitch!"

Rick cleared his throat looking at Kevin, wondering when or if the idiot will step in. Rick's answer came when Kevin turned away from the stage and burst into laughter. His eyes darted to a group of men sitting in a booth. None of them moved an inch to help.

Rick looked back at Kevin, his lip curled in disgust, "You gonna put those arms to use or you're too weak to do your job?" Rick's quip shut Kevin right up, Guido's mouth hung open in a stupor. Like a dumb cartoon character, he shook his head clearing his already empty brain, coming to the realization that Rick insulted him. Kevin's eyes narrowed and moved toward Rick instead of the stage.

"Cut that shit out now!" Said an angry voice behind Rick. Rick quickly turned to the source, the scarred man from outside. He gazed in the direction of the stage. "Take your asses to the back and tell Lau it's her turn," he continued, quiet but firm.

The topless woman looked defiant, but she stepped away from the troublemaker and guided the other woman to the back. Rick's eyes met with Scarface who held a sheet of laminated paper to Rick's face.

"My permit."

Rick snatched it from his hand and quickly read it. "Thank you for this," he said wiggling the paper in his hand. "But, I change my mind. Going to hold onto this," he patted Scarface's gun on his waistband. "Until I leave."

Scarface's nostrils flared, his eyes cold and hard. Rick angled his body toward him so that only Scarface could hear what Rick said next."

"We got a problem here?" Rick cocked his head to the side and gave the man an equally hard stare.

Both of them looked at the other, neither flinching or daring to be the first to look away. Although, Rick knew he was being counterproductive with these people.

 _Maybe I should have brought Michonne. She's far more charming._

Suddenly, dance music blared from several speakers surrounding the bar and stage. Rick lost the staring contest because his eyes landed on the woman on the stage. From where he stood, she looked Thai or Filipino and like the girls before her, she began putting on a show for the sprinkling of men in here.

"You didn't come here to watch our strippers, ask your questions." Blunt and direct, Scarface held his hands in front of him.

"Are you Negan?"

"We're all Negan."

Rick chuckled sarcastically, "You're a serious man. I can tell you're above the bullshit, so don't start now."

The man raised an eyebrow, "You think you know me?"

"I would like your name. Don't make me be that cop that starts listing off the number of things I can arrest you for." Rick smiled, "I'm already up to four and I've been here five minutes."

The man cleared his throat, "Frank."

"Thank you. My first question to you is why do employees carry a weapon?"

"My permit says I can carry in the state of Georgia. And assholes think because we're way out in the woods, it's an easy spot to rob."

Rick nodded his head, "When was the last time you were in King County?" Frank's stone expression faltered.

"Is that a fair?" Frank shrugged his shoulders, "Never heard of it."

"Does your boss always give women he doesn't know large sums of money?" Rick didn't skip a beat moving onto the next question.

"I don't keep up with what Negan does in his personal life."

"And a week ago on Friday, did Negan close up here?"

"I don't recall."

Look, man," Kevin, who Rick had forgotten existed when Frank came in, spoke up. "Negan ain't have shit to do with no murder. He was with me all night. Banging one of the girls," he laughed, but he choked on his laughter when Frank shot him a harsh glare.

"Murder? Who said anything about a murder," Rick feigned faux surprise and kept himself from smiling at Kevin's loose lips. "How do you know about the homicide in my town?"

Kevin's held his mouth open and his eyes darted between Rick and Frank. "I read about it in the paper."

 _You can read?_

"Frank, what's going on down there?" All heads in the bar swiveled upward toward the booming voice above them. The woman on stage stopped and quickly walked backstage. The lights obscured Rick's view of mystery man number three. He squinted, only making out the man's silhouette, but he could feel the energy shift in the room. "Are you really going to keep these fucking lights in my face?"

Kevin the Guido moved first, rushing toward a booth by the stage. A few moments later, the lights on the stage turned off. Rick could now see the balcony above the back of the stage where mystery man number three leaned over. And that man gazed directly at Rick.

 _Negan._

Rick didn't need a formal introduction when his body clued him in; his pulse elevated and fists clenched tightly. Something turned on within that put him on immediate defense, but his memory had yet to catch on as to why.

"Detective Grimes was just leaving," Frank spoke up. He held a hand up to Rick, gesturing to the door, but Rick ignored him. Rick's eyes locked onto the man he believed to be Negan and took a step forward.

"I need to speak with you Negan," Rick said loud and clear.

Negan didn't respond verbally, instead, like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, his mouth slowly extended into a comical grin. "About what?"

"A murder and Merle Dixon," Rick could feel all the eyes in the bar shift to him.

"Merle? What kind of name is Merle?" Negan asked, still not bothering to move from his spot on the balcony.

"What kind of name is Negan?" Rick retorted. Negan laughed, big hearty laughter as if Rick told him one of the funniest jokes in the world. With the exception of Frank, who stayed stone silent, other men in the room started an unsure chorus of disingenuous laughter and small chuckles. Rick rolled his eyes and glanced at Frank who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

Negan stopped abruptly but kept grinning. "Frank! Bring the officer upstairs. I've got nothing to hide," he said. His face and body shrouded in shadow again leaving only his silhouette. He held out his arms wide and his stance created a spark in Rick's mind.

 _Your best fucking chance is right now. Stand up and put a knife in my throat, drive an ax into my face. I bet they fucking worship you, but I'm not going to turn you into a martyr._

Grimacing, Rick shook his head slightly and blinked his eyes. Negan left the balcony and Frank instructed Kevin to turn the music back on. Not wanting to dwell on where his mind went to, Rick walked to the stairs, climbing them two at a time to the second floor. Frank came up behind him and bumped past Rick, taking the lead as they walked through the dimly lit hallway. The music and lights were turned on. One of the stage lights shone on the area Negan previously stood, helping Rick see a double brown door.

Frank knocked on the door twice. Rick fidgeted with his pen and notebook, they were a reminder that he was here on official business, but as he rubbed the middle of his forehead he felt the urge to change his agenda. Michonne voiced last night that Negan maybe someone from their past, someone who could be experiencing the same phenomenon as them, but the problem is that this man was dangerous, possibly then, definitely now.

Frank opened the door and stood in front of it, still giving Rick a hard stare. Rick came into the plain room with bright clinical lights and no windows. A full-size bed in the corner of the far wall was unmade, the bedding looked outdated and unappealing, and shaggy carpeting, covering half of the concrete floor. The only item in the room that remotely looked new and from the 21st century was the iMac sitting on a brown oak desk and sitting behind it; Negan. And on the wall behind Negan, displayed like a trophy; a baseball bat.

Rick observed the man who since now seemed fictional. He was a stranger, but the familiarity Rick felt would not go away. Like Kevin the Guido, he had a thick upper body unlike Kevin the Guido, Negan worked out more than just his arms. His legs were crossed and resting on the desk, he wore jeans and a white muscle shirt. Jet black hair slicked back, he looked only slightly older than Rick.

"Sit," Negan said, pointing to the chair in front of the desk.

Rick angled the chair so that both Negan and Frank were in full view. He placed Frank's weapon slowly on the floor in between his legs and sat down. He eyed Frank eyeing his gun and then glanced at Negan staring at him with perplexed amusement.

"I've already spoken to you all months—hell I think it's been more than a year ago about Merle."

"Yeah, you spoke to Detective Blake, but my department in King County are doing our own investigation."

"King County? Where the fuck is that?"

Rick's jaw clenched, "A man was murdered there. Ed Peletier."

Negan frown, "What happened?"

Rick leaned back in his seat, trying to relax even though he felt the opposite, "Never seen anything like it before, his head was smashed like a damn pumpkin. The saddest part is his wife and child discovering him in that state," Rick said staring hard at Negan.

Negan shook his head and removed his feet from the table, leaning forward, "poor bastard," he whispered, clasping his hands on top of the desk. "I don't know this Ed, so if you came here—."

"Carol Peletier," Rick cut him off. "You know her."

Negan smirked and gaze over at Frank and then back at Rick, "That name doesn't ring a bell?"

"Really?" Rick tilted his head and paused, he wondered how long Negan was going to play this game. "She knows you. Matter-of-fact before leaving for here, she insisted that you were a swell guy."

"I am a fucking swell guy and I always leave a good impression on women."

"Especially women you give money to, personally," now it was Rick leaning forward. "I know you've been to King County. I know you know Carol and her daughter and you have your reasons for helping them. I also know you knew of Ed Peletier. I'm sure Carol told you her story, you saw the bruises…" Negan crossed his arms in amusement. "And I get why Ed had to die. A man like that doesn't deserve to live, abusing your family. Lord only knows the bruises he caused that we don't see. He was a piece of shit—."

"Are you sure you didn't kill him," Negan laughed, Frank chuckled as well. "Cause it sure the fuck sounds like you had a grudge."

Rick scoffed and scratched his head, "My feelings for him were no secret, but if we were on trial for our thoughts, we'd all be executed."

"Then why are you here?"

"Where were you Friday night?"

"Here," Negan pointed to the bed, "my dick playing ping pong with one of my girl's titties," he chuckled.

Rick looked at Negan, incredulously, the man was painted as a saint in Michonne's court records and by Carol. Clearly, Negan didn't care to keep up the façade in front of Rick, and Rick wasn't sure how to make of it.

"Which girl?"

"Lau. You saw her, sexy Thai with an amazing pair of tits, bought and paid for by me of course." Negan suddenly stood up, readjusting his pants onto his hips. "Listen, I'm not going to take offense that you believe I'm your number one suspect. And I'll be upfront with you, I knew the lady and she tugged on my heart," he said holding his chest. "A mother and child in a situation like that," Negan sighed. "Sad, but I have an alibi," he shrugged.

"You know how many guys have said they had an alibi and it fell apart in court. You think yours will because less than two minutes ago, you didn't know Carol."

"Just because a man tends to lie it doesn't mean he always does."

Rick's lip curled, the urge to wipe Negan's grin off his face grew stronger. The man was irritating and Rick hated that he had the upper hand.

Michonne was right about needing another person there and Rick's overconfidence had blinded him to that fact.

* * *

 **Elsewhere**

"Spencer, why are you here?" Michonne carried Andre in her arms after parking her car. She could have gone up to her condo avoiding Spencer, but there had to be a good reason for him to be standing outside her home like a stray dog.

Spencer spun around—a little too fast—causing a folder to fly out of his arms and onto the street. He stumbled a bit realizing his mistake and rushed toward the folder. Like a horse racing down a track, Spencer wore blinders, albeit invisible, impairing his peripheral sight thus missing the traffic light turning from red to green.

Michonne saw the disaster Spencer was crab walking head first into. "SPENCER!" She yelled, "CARS!" Much to Michonne's frustration, Spencer was deaf as well. Too focused on gathering the papers that scattered from the folder.

"Mommy, cars coming." Andre pointed to the incoming traffic, he was aware of the danger Spencer put himself in. And with Spencer crouched behind a parked car, drivers wouldn't be able to see him until it was too late.

"I know baby," balancing Andre in her arms, Michonne lifted one leg, pulled off her heeled shoe, aimed at her target, and threw it.

As Spencer reached for the folder, holding tightly to the other folders and papers tucked underneath his armpit. Wind on what was up until that very moment, a windless day blew the folder another inch or two out of Spencer's reach.

Michonne had a brief thought of the movie _Final Destination_ where Death always found a way to take its victims, no matter how well they tried to protect themselves. Luckily, Spencer and Michonne weren't in a movie, Michonne's shoe hit its target—the back of Spencer's head. He jerked backward right as a vehicle drove over the folder.

"A piece of paper is not worth your life," she yelled. Spencer stood up, breathing heavily and holding the back of his head.

"I think I'm bleeding." He removed his hand and inspected it for blood.

"Get out of the street," she repeated, flatly.

"Get mommy's shoe!" Andre added causing Michonne to laugh.

Spencer came back to them with her shoe in hand and he managed to retrieve the folder. He placed his paperwork on the ground and kneeled onto the pile. "Could you lift up your foot?"

She pressed her lips, grimacing at his gesture, but then balanced herself on his head, until he slipped her shoe back onto her foot.

"Seriously, don't do that again."

Spencer stammered, "My way of saying thank you, you know."

"I mean, putting yourself in danger for nothing," Michonne said, dismissively. Spencer fixed and tucked the folders back under his armpit, flush crept along his cheeks. "So, why are you here?"

"Umm...," he pushed his hair from out of his sweaty face, his gaze towards the ground. "Merle—he fired everyone. The boss isn't happy, says we've wasted too many man hours—actually his words were _'you_ wasted man hours' which is why I'm here to tell you that he wants—."

"No," Michonne turned on her heels, moving her dreads from Andre's grabby hands.

"Wait, Ms. Tealle, ifyoutakethecaseagainandwin, "Spencer's words ran together in a jumble. He picked up his pace to match a still moving Michonne's stride. "You'll be considered for partner."

Michonne made it to the lobby of her condo before whipping around to face Spencer. "Consider?" She asked with disbelief and disgust.

"That's what he said…"

"You should add condescension to your tone and you would have nailed your impersonation."

Michonne headed for the elevators shaking her head at her soon to be former boss' _gift_.

"Michonne please wait; Merle needs our help."

She pressed the button and readjusted Andre on her hip. Merle's predicament was becoming worse by the day and Michonne replayed how she could have done things differently.

"I know, but I…" her voice trailed off. _I can't have another episode_. Morgan's headless body flashed in her head, she closed her eyes willing the gruesome visual away.

"We can win this. I believe you can win this."

"Mommy," Andre had two of her dreads in his hand, tugging and twisting them in around each other. Michonne took a deep breath and exhaled, she looked at Andre and then the elevator door that opened.

"I need time to think, to decide," she said and stepped into the elevator. Just yesterday, she was done. Now, she was weighing the pros and cons. Michonne needed to put her and Andre first, but a man's life was at stake. And this case, Rick's investigation, Morgan, Negan, them even being in this world. It was all connected. Yet. Stepping back and letting her back rest on the cool wall, she tightens her grip on Andre. Those dreams, those visions, the fear of ending up back in a mental ward for the long term was real.

Spencer didn't follow her into the elevator, instead, he leaned against it, stopping the elevator from closing. "I understand. Just call the big man with your decision. And Ms. Tealle…" The elevator jerked as Spencer stopped it again, his brows furrowed. "I gave this information to Tracinski, but he shrugged it off. There was another witness." He paused, staring into Michonne's eyes with fierce intensity. "She was interviewed by Detective Brian Blake for _five_ minutes." He shuffled through his folders and pulled out the one that he foolishly chased after earlier. Michonne took it.

"This was the only paperwork we had on her, so yeah I thought it was worth saving," Spencer smiled and moved back, leaving Andre and a speechless Michonne.

* * *

Andre's excited squeals echoed through the condo. He ran towards the pile of new toys. Action figures, a Thomas train set, and cars, all still in their packaging. Plus, a giant brown teddy bear, matching the other one in Andre's room. _Christmas came early_. Michonne mused, taking her shoes off and dropping her car keys on the counter. Michonne checked her phone only to see no messages from Rick. She wanted to call but resigned that thought. _He's doing his job, Rick's okay_. She sighed and shuffled to Andre who struggled to pull apart the box containing his train set.

"Let mommy do that for you." Michonne sat on the floor, Indian-style and ripped open the seals of the box and searched for the item Andre truly wanted.

Andre used her legs for support while he jumped and wiggled in anticipation. "Tawmas!" He screamed gleefully as Michonne pulled out the train.

"Here you go Peanut." Andre took his toy and found a comfy spot on top of the bear's head. Michonne smiled but felt apprehensive. Mike didn't buy these toys just for the heck of it. Andre was far too young to take sides and Michonne didn't think her boy was aware of his parents' woes. Michonne scratched her cheek, sighing that she needed to speak with Mike sooner rather than later.

She picked up the folder, pulling out the papers and shuffled through them. Seven pages total, but five pages were stapled together. Michonne placed those papers and the folder beside her. The two papers in her hand were standard police witness statements, one sheet was practically a blank page with the exception of Detective Brian's signature and the other sheet had two very short paragraphs.

Michonne narrowed her eyes and read the little bit of information that stated a Maggie Greene saw someone matching the suspect's description. She heard loud bangs and a few minutes later, the suspect left the motel. Greene didn't have any further details.

 _Maggie Greene? This woman was never mentioned in any of the witness files. Nor was she on the prosecution witness list or defendants. Who is she?_

Michonne's gut told her that something with the investigation or lack of one wasn't just another case of gross incompetence, but something far more sinister.

 _I can get this case toss out. Show the negligence of the department. Find past cases where the State have had convictions overturned._ Excitement brewed within Michonne, she grabbed the second stack of papers and her mouth dropped. Another witness statement was done by Officer Carl Hicks with Maggie. Three pages long, plus a character sketch.

According to the report, Maggie saw the female victim enter the motel room with a tall man, bulky, wearing a leather jacket and jeans. About thirty minutes later she heard screaming and called 911.

Michonne jerked to her feet, hopping over Andre's toys she rushed toward the boxes containing all of Merle's files. She and Christy had been through the boxes too many times last week, so Michonne knew just where to look.

"Mommy!"

"Just a sec bud." Michonne unstacked boxes and opened the second to last and grabbed the USB lying inside.

She pulled out two files; one titled Bruce Donaldson and the other, a 911 transcript.

"Mommy."

Michonne turned her head and saw Andre holding his stomach. "What's wrong?"

An annoyed expression crossed his plump face, "Juice please!"

Michonne smiled, sitting the files on the couch, she went to the kitchen. Her little man following behind her.

"Peanut and jelly sandwich too?"

"Yes," Andre happily agreed.

Ten minutes later, Andre sat on the couch watching his cartoon and enjoying his lunch. Michonne sat in her office, scrolling through her notes on her laptop. With the USB plugged into her computer she clicked on the audio file and pressed play. It was the 911 call from Bruce, who was supposedly the only witness physically tying Merle to the crime scene. Michonne listened, Bruce did sound panicky, scared. The operator asked if the suspect was there and Bruce responded that he wasn't sure.

Michonne paused the audio and read through Maggie's statement.

"Maggie called 911, three minutes before Bruce did." Michonne's eyes narrowed, scrolling for more audio files, but found none. Neither were there another 911 transcript.

"What the hell!" It didn't just disappear, there should be a recording. Michonne continued reading Maggie's statement.

"She saw the suspect?"

 _Ms. Greene saw the suspect walk down the stairs into the alleyway opposite of her. There was enough light to see he had dark hair, was carrying a baseball bat on his shoulder and whistling. She didn't think he saw her and had no desire to approach him. Ms. Green states she then called 911._

"Fuck!" Michonne exclaimed loudly, remembering Andre was in the next room, she repeated the explicative quietly. She stood up and paced in a circle, tension increased in her body. The description didn't match Merle. Worse, Detective Brian knew this, but no follow up, no pursuit, nothing except hiding Greene's statement, maybe even destroying the recorded 911 call.

"Fuck!" She stopped and clutched the back of her chair, her knuckles turning white. _What next? Take the case again?_

Michonne swiftly left her office, she looked towards the couch where Andre was now lying on his side still watching TV. Her phone by his foot. She stepped over Andre's toys and reached for her phone.

Still no call or text from Rick, her stomach turned just a bit, but she wasn't going to panic. She called, four rings and she got his voicemail. She hung up. Biting her lip, she looked at Andre in an effort to reign in her increasingly worrisome thoughts. She took a breath in and then out and dialed Rick once again.

* * *

Rick's phone buzzed again and this time he answered after the second ring.

"Detective Grimes here."

"It's Michonne."

"I know." He held up a finger to Negan, "sorry to interrupt your…" Rick shook his hand as if was searching for the word he was looking for, "…monologue. I'll be back in a minute." Rick didn't wait for Negan's reply, he picked up Franks's gun and brushed past him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Michonne replied. "What's he like?"

"Phony. Should have convinced Shane to stay until we finished this. I'll tell you later. Why did you call?"

"Because Detective Blake is phony as well."

Rick frowned, he looked behind to see if Frank or Negan were leering and then stepped a few feet away from the door.

"There was another witness that actually saw the murderer on the scene, but his follow-up with her was summarized in two sentences," Michonne continued. "He dismissed her testimony. Worse a 911 call was made by her yet there is no recording of it."

"You think he's covering for—."

"I know he is!"

"Ok, I'll ask—."

"No," Michonne interrupted again. "I need you to leave, Brian gave you that address what if—."

"Michonne," Rick whispered, "I'll be fine. Let's meet at Christie's, one hour."

"But—."

"I love you."

"I love you more," she said quietly.

"One hour," Rick repeated and hung up.

 _Are Brian and Negan working together? Does Negan have any influence to get an officer of the law to do his dirty work? What's in it for Brian?_

More questions swirled around his brain. Questions, Negan wasn't going to answer nor Brian. At the end of the day, Rick needed evidence. But there were some lingering questions he wanted to ask Negan.

"Where were we?" Rick walked back into the room to see Negan and Frank having an intense conversation. "Am I interrupting something?" Rick asked raising an eyebrow.

"I've been more than accommodating toward you, Rick is it? But, I'm starting to feel as if I'm going to need a lawyer present."

Rick held up his hands, "Just a couple of more questions. The reason why I'm here is that Ed's murder is awfully similar to a double homicide that happened a year ago," Rick flipped open his notebook, "Dwight and Sherry Gibson."

Frank's eyes widen, he looked pensive, he gazed briefly at Negan and then landed on the ground.

"Sherry!" Negan grinned widely. "What a sweetheart, may she rest in peace. Beautiful girl, before she became a meth head." Negan took a step toward Rick, "This is when you ask me about Merle, next? That guy. I did not appreciate him coming to my place of business and bothering Sherry" Negan continued. "Not cool. Not fucking cool."

"Then why did you pay him?"

"I'm a nice man. I help people. You see Frank here," Negan pointed to Frank, "was in prison for eighteen years, no job, living in a bum ass apartment with his junkie cousin. Frank would have gone right back to the clink if it wasn't for me. I gave him a job, a home, and I tried to clean up that cousin, but—."

"Dwight?" Rick looked at Frank, "Dwight was your cousin?"

Frank didn't respond, but Negan did, "Dwight was hardheaded. He couldn't follow very simple rules, tried to mess with the order of things around here, and then fucked with Sherry's recovery. He brought Merle to my place of business and then he got himself killed."

"He broke your rules and you didn't feel the need to make him pay especially for feeding Sherry's addiction?"

"I made him pay by firing him."

Rick smirked, "And you being connected to both the Gibson's and Peletiers is just a mere coincidence?" Rick waved his comment off before Negan could retort and pointed to the baseball bat hanging on the wall. "Do you use that bat often?"

"This bat!" Negan covered his mouth in faux surprise. "Lucille? I used this bat when I won the National Championships for my team way-way back during high school." Negan grin grew wider which Rick didn't think it could possibly get any wider. "Nah, I only use this baby for special occasions."

Rick peered at the bat, observing for signs that the bat was used for alternative reasons besides hitting balls, but it had no obvious knicks and scratches. The bat actually looked brand new.

"Boss, the bar's opening," Frank said, pointing to his wristwatch.

Indeed, Rick could hear the noise downstairs increased. Negan clapped his hands and chuckled, "I got a business to run Rick, leave me your card and I'll call you if I have anything new to share."

The condescension dripped from Negan's words like a soaked towel. Frank started to lead Rick out the office door, but Rick stood his ground.

"You believe deep down Merle Dixon's innocent?"

"Perhaps he's innocent."

Rick's eyes narrowed.

"Perhaps I'm a liar. Perhaps you are barking up the wrong fucking tree," he laughed.

"Hmm… I'll know you soon enough," Rick said and followed Frank out the door.

The bar was officially opened. More men coming in from their workplaces; construction sites, offices, etc. Two bartenders serving drinks and it seemed like more of Negan's security came in because a good dozen men scattered around the room eyes were glued to Rick. And Kevin the Guido stood at the front entrance.

"My gun," Frank said, holding out his hand.

Rick nodded and returned Frank's gun to its owner. "You need a holster to carry this around, so buy one. And…" Rick leaned closer to Frank. "If you cared anything about your cousin, you would want to see him get real justice."

Frank eyes met with Rick, hard and unflinching, "Dwight will. When Merle is convicted and dies."

Rick's jaw clenched, it was going to take more to break a man like Frank. He walked past Frank and Kevin toward his car. And as he drove away from _Lucille's Knock Em' Dead Bar and Grill_ , one thought popped into his head.

 _How did Negan know my name is Rick?_

* * *

Rick entered through the front doors of Christie's condo building. The sun started it's slow gravitational decent towards the far west which marked the end of another day. A long day where Rick didn't feel like he accomplished anything at all, leaving Negan's bar with more questions and zero bullshit answers.

His cell buzzed in his pocket, taking it out, the caller id on his cell read 'home', Rick let it ring twice deciding whether or not he was ready to talk to Lori. On the third ring he answered and to his relief, the person on the other line was his son.

"Dad?"

"Carl, how are you?" Rick stood by the elevator, he reached for the up button, but someone beat him to it.

"Back home. I'm doing ok." Lucy was in the background and it sounded like they both were outside.

Rick glanced back at the person who hit the elevator button, a tall black man who was facing the other way. Rick's eyes swept back to the elevator door.

"You don't sound ok."

Carl sighed, "because mom made me come home early."

"Why did she do that?"

"She doesn't think I heard it, but mom was arguing with grandma and grandpa."

Rick looked up and saw the elevator was on the second floor down then after a few seconds instead of continuing down it went up.

"I'm sure it was just a heated disagreement," Rick said. Lori was close to her parents and he never saw them fight or argue.

"It was about you, dad." Rick swallowed, _did Lori tell them? And does that mean Carl knows_ _now too?_ "Dad how long are you going to be gone because mom's really sad." Lucy barked in the background, she had to be right by the phone because her bark ranged in Rick's ear. "Lucy! Go fetch the ball," Carl ordered.

"Carl, what do you mean they were arguing about me?" The elevator was heading back down and right when Rick thought it was arriving, it stopped on the floor above him.

"Grandpa told mom that you are a word I can't repeat."

"Damn," someone muttered by him. Rick turned and saw the same guy, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Carl, no need to repeat the word. I already know." Lori's dad favorite word to describe Rick had always been 'dick'. The elevator dinged, finally arriving at the lobby floor, and opened. Rick stepped inside and pressed Christie's floor number and then stood with his back against the back wall.

The man that had been behind Rick entered as well, reached for the buttons, but stopped and glanced at Rick. Rick gave the man a friendly nod which he returned and then put his hands in his pockets turning his back to Rick.

Rick frowned slightly, a pink of familiarity crawled over him for the second time today. The man before him looked to be in his late 20s-early 30s, his hair cut low, and he wore a suit that was well-tailored and looked expensive. The man was handsome like one of those models featured in GQ and Esquire. Suddenly, Rick felt like a backward hick in his blue jeans and a plaid shirt.

"Dad, are you coming home?"

"Yeah, yeah. There are just some thangs I need to finish up here. I'll be home in another day or two." He wondered if he could convince Michonne to come with him. The last thing he wanted to do was split from her. Rick's eyes met with the stranger whose face furrowed in confusion as if he was trying to figure out if he knew Rick. Rick searched his memory box for a face and name that matched the stranger but came up empty.

Lucy's barks broke Rick's fascination with the stranger. Carl had been talking and Rick hadn't been listening. The elevator was seconds away from reaching Rick and the stranger's destination.

"Carl, I'll be home soon. Take care of your mom. Stay out of trouble."

"Dad, mom has me confined to the house, there's nothing to do."

The elevator dinged.

"I'll call your mom today and talk to her bout letting you out of solitary confinement."

"What's solitary confinement?"

"Punishment."

The stranger stepped out of the elevator and went left which gave Rick pause because he needed to go left as well.

"Please talk to her. Patrick never came over to grandpa's and I want to hang out."

"I'll talk to her and you later, okay?"

"Okay."

"Love you."

"Love you too."

Rick stood for a moment, placing his cell in his pocket and waiting until he was a couple feet behind the stranger. He walked cautiously, but casually, his instincts told him something was wrong. He could see the stranger pull out a cell from his own pocket. Christie's condo was second to last down the hallway and Rick was aware that they were running out of rooms.

"I'm on your floor. I'll be here in literally a couple seconds."

His voice. There was no mistaking it, Rick stopped like a deer in the headlights contemplating his next move. Be smart, whatever you do it'll affect Michonne. Introducing himself sounded like an open invitation for a fight especially after the two men short war of words over the phone mere days ago. No, Rick decided he'd go back down to the lobby, call Michonne, and maybe go one step further and explore Atlanta. Shane had come down with the intentions of not only 'helping' Rick, but to find a place. Rick nodded to himself that he should go do that as well.

Rick turned around, his new destination; the elevator.

"Hey!"

Mike's hey was less of a greeting and more so a command to stop. Rick shook his head, rolling his eyes, knowing that once he faced Mike things weren't going to end well.

"Do I know you?" Mike asked. His footsteps made soft thumps on the hallway's carpeting.

"Naw you don't know me." Rick kept his back to Mike. Hoping that was enough, but knowing it wasn't.

"You sound familiar," there was uncertainty in Mike's voice. As if he too was contemplating whether to push the issue or continue to Christie's door. "Do you know Christie?"

Rick groaned, he turned to face Mike who was feet away from him. Mike held his phone in his hand, his other hand by his side.

"Sort of, but this is the first time I've seen you."

"You know Michonne too?"

His jaw clenching, Rick watched Mike's free hand do the same, but there was still a calm expression on his face.

"No. If you don't mind I need to grab my car before I get another ticket," Rick laughed, it rang false and Mike didn't crack a smile. He frowned and shook his head and slowly turned only halfway around. He held up his phone in which Rick decided their little exchange was over. He turned on his heel and headed back to the elevators.

Rick's cell phone buzzed in his pocket again. Pulling his cell out, the caller ID was just a number.

"Hello?" He answered.

"You still don't know me?" Rick heard Mike's voice through the receiver and in the hallway creating an echo effect. Rick closed his eyes, breathing deeply and choosing quickly his next action.

The elevator pinged and the door slowly opened.

"Hey, let's talk for a minute," Mike said, his footsteps picked up speed. The last thing Rick wanted to do was fight this man. "I wanna know how you know Michonne?"

The elevator doors creaked open as Rick opened his eyes.

"Shit," was all he could say as his eyes fell upon Michonne and Andre.

* * *

 **Tune in another year and four months now... j/k my goal is to finish this very strange journey Rick and Michonne are on, in this lifetime. Thank you to all the new readers who discovered this fic, it was really amazing to get new reviews even while absent and to those who've been around since the beginning, I'm really sorry :(**


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